Return ABANDONED
by Taure
Summary: It's 2200, and the world has known peace for hundreds of years. Now, a dark power thought to be destroyed is returning, and the world shall find itself woefully unprepared. Meanwhile, at Hogwarts, an interesting artifact is found by a young first year.
1. Chapter 1

**Return **

**Prologue**

The year is 2202, and hundreds of years have passed since Harry Potter defeated the dark wizard Voldemort in a deadly duel. To the Wizarding world, which has known peace ever since, the name of Voldemort is but a legend to scare small children, and Harry Potter – well, they don't remember him at all. War is but a memory in the minds of the oldest of the old, and while magic has continued to progress, the world – both magical and Muggle – has grown complacent. Harry Potter never told anyone of the lengths Voldemort had gone to in his search for immortality, and with Harry and his friends, that dangerous knowledge died. The world is in for a rude awakening…

**Chapter 1**

At night, Hogwarts' school of Witchcraft and Wizardry becomes a very different place. Corridors that were filled with activity in the day turn dark and empty, the only light for any wayward student provided by the strands of moonlight that find their way through the long and thin windows of the castle, casting cruel shadows that seem to leap out at unsuspecting passers-by.

The full moon hung in the dark sky outside, and the Dark magic of the night made wandering in dark places all the more perilous. It is said by some students that if you strain your ears, you can hear the howls of the werewolves in the forbidden forest. Of course, none of this mattered to a young Slytherin first year, who believed he was safe within the walls of the castle. He was, as is practically a rule of his house, black haired, tall for his age, and of an aristocratic appearance, though his face had not yet lost the softness of his youth. His eyes flashed a rather dull looking hazel as a shaft of moonlight caught his face, and he quickly hid behind a suit of armour in case a teacher saw him at his night time explorations.

Peeking out from behind his metal cover, he looked down the cold hallway before him, hoping to catch sight of any professors before they caught sight of him. The corridor was empty of any other activity: on the left of the hall frosted-up windows looked down onto a snowy courtyard two floors below, and the right-hand wall was unadorned but for the odd portrait or suit of armour breaking the monotony of the grey stone.

Though he thought it awfully clever, the boy's "plan" for that night was quite innocent, and indeed rather naïve. He was going to sneak into the defence professor's classroom, and steal one of the dusty books - full of "forbidden knowledge" - from the professor's personal collection, kept in a glass case at the back of the room. It probably never occurred the young boy that if the books really were full of such knowledge then they would not be out on display. Perhaps he was so wrapped up in the glory that he would receive after displying his knowledge of arcane magicks that he did not really think idea through. Nevertheless, he was going through with his plan, and the corridor was empty, so he quickly jumped out from his hiding place and ran with a light step down the hall, until he reached an ordinary looking wooden door on his right, where he stopped.

Taking one last look around him, the boy took the handle of the door and it opened up for him without the slightest bit of resistance. He frowned slightly at this: surely if the books inside were so valuable, the door would at least be locked? But such thoughts were quickly discarded next to the idea of glory, so with a shrug of his shoulders the boy entered into the dark classroom, softly closing the door behind him.

The room was a large and rectangular, with an oak desk in front of the blackboard facing rows of Victorian style tables with inkwells, all neatly arranged with chairs behind them. Professor Henwell - the defence professor – was rather particular about neatness. The walls were covered with the usual posters of wand movements and dangerous creatures, except for the back wall, which was dominated by a large bookcase, filled with old books, and guarded by a glass screen. This was the boy's target.

He purposefully stepped towards it, taking out his wand and holding it in front of him. Fame within Slytherin house was almost upon him. With more flourish than was necessary, though just the right amount for the _magnificent_ occasion, the boy waved his wand, and a rather feeble, "_Alohamora!_" escaped his lips, whispered so silently that it could almost count as non-verbal magic.

To the boy's great disappointment, nothing happened. The glass stayed exactly where it was, rather than sliding to one side into the wood of the bookcase as he had seen his professor do so many times. All his careful planning had been for nothing. The boy briefly considered smashing the glass, but such an act seemed rather Gryffindorish to him, and he had no idea how many alarms the case might have had on it.

Desperate for all his efforts not to be wasted, the boy cast his eyes around the room once more, searching for something – anything – to take away with him as a prize. Just as he was going to give up hope and leave, his sight landed on a door than he has previously disregarded. There, next to the blackboard and on the farther side of the classroom from the entrance, was the door to the defence professor's office. As far as the boy knew, the office was not in use, as the current professor preferred to use the deputy headmaster's office on the first floor.

_Still, there might be something of interest in there_, the boy thought, and his mind was already conjuring up images of ancient treasures and lost artefacts. All thoughts of the book cabinet forgotten, he crept towards the heavy-looking door. Reaching it, the boy gave it an experimental shove. It did not move an inch. Either it was too heavy or locked. His wand still in hand from his last attempt, the boy waved it again, in a more subdued manner, and yet this time it had far more powerful effects. Before he had even finished the incantation of the unlocking charm, a strong wind swept through the classroom, seeming to illuminate the boy's face in dark light, before forcefully opening the door with a loud bang. The boy winced at the sound, and hoped that there were not any teachers about.

After spending a minute or so standing in silence, listening out for wandering professors, he decided that he had not been heard and stepped into the pitch black of the room, lighting his wand with a, "_Lumos!_" as he went. The room was quite obviously abandoned. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, faded pictures were peeling off the walls, and the only window in the room was so dirty that you could hardly see through it. All in all the room was quite empty; the only furniture left in the room was a large and sturdy looking desk facing the door. It looked like it had drawers down the side. Smiling with victory, the boy moved to the desk and knelt on the hard stone floor behind it, looking at the drawers. There were three in total. Hoping that none of them were cursed, the boy put his wand down and started by dragging the top-drawer open: it was empty. Closing it without little difficulty, he tried the second drawer down. It too was empty, though a few spiders crawled out as he opened it, causing the boy to jump in surprise. All his hopes resting on the last drawer, he closed the second and moved his hand down to the metallic clasp of the third. He could not help himself from gasping as he laid his hand on it: it was freezing cold, and sent a chill to the boy's very bones, even as he drew his hand away.

If he were sensible, he would have walked away then, and history will always doom him for what he did next. For he was not sensible, and even at such a young age was drunk with the idea of power over his peers, so he braced himself and once more grasped the handle of the drawer and gave it a good pull. The drawer slid open without any resistance, smooth as if it had been oiled recently. The sound of a wolf howling drifted up from the forest outside. Disregarding this, the boy reached his hand, now almost blue from the cold, into the drawer, and took from it a rather plain, small, leather-bound book. The boy was rather disappointed: after that curse on the handle, he had expected something far more exciting. Nonetheless, he pocketed it inside his baggy robes, reckoning that there must be something special about it to be locked in a draw behind a curse.

Satisfied by his prize, the boy quickly and rather recklessly kicked the drawer shut and strode out of the office, pulling with all his weight on the heavy door to get it closed with a long squeak. As soon as the office door was closed the boy walked straight out of the classroom and back into the corridor. And that was his first obvious mistake of the night, for he had walked out right into the path of a professor.

"You! Greengrass!" shouted the professor, her voice echoing around the corridor, "What are you doing out at this time of night?"

The boy – Arctarus Greengrass – was rooted to the spot. This was not part of the plan.

"I'm sorry professor," said Arctarus, trying to put on his most whiny voice, "I forgot the password to my common room, and couldn't get inside…" He trailed off and tried to screw up his face in what he thought a tearful face would look like. This professor was the head of Hufflepuff – no doubt she would fall easily for some emotional crap, or so Arctarus thought. Fortunately for him, he was right.

"Oh you poor thing! In your first week here as well!" the professor exclaimed, now in full mothering mode. "Let's get you back to your dorm then – I know the password!" she ended this last statement with a small wink: no doubt she was trying to cheer him up after such a _terribly_ traumatic night.

She started to amble off down the hall in the way of the Slytherin common room, calling for him to follow. It was not a long walk, and within minutes Arctarus was back in his dorm, under his covers and looking at the book he had found by wandlight. It appeared to be a diary, filled with someone's scribblings. Arctarus only had to read a couple of entries before he knew that he had hit a jackpot: whoever had written the diary had been a magical genius – even a first year could tell that – and every entry was filled with little magical shortcuts, spells that it appeared that the man had created, and stories of a magical world now hundreds of years in the past. Not only that, but it quickly became apparent that the diary was enchanted: there were far more entries than should have been able to fit into a book of that size, and each entry was far longer than should have fit in the tiny space allotted for each day. Pushing down his excitement, and realising that most of the magic within was far beyond his current level of understanding, Arctarus decided to leave the diary for the next day, when he was more awake. Taking one last peek at the inside cover, he placed it under his pillow and quickly fell asleep, dreaming of all he could do with the diary's help. He wouldn't learn until years later the significance of the writing that his last peek had shown him that night.

_This is the diary of Harry Potter._

* * *

Far away from the comforts of Hogwarts, something stirred in the wastes of Siberia, wakened from its long sleep. A Dark presence was regaining form, its power beginning to pull all that is attracted by such forces towards it. Werewolves, giants, vampires, hags, even wizards…though they knew not why they came, a slow migration was happening, as all the Dark powers of the world began to come together, waiting for an unknown master to rally behind. The world was in for a rude awakening. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_Five years later_

When Captain Oliver Thrall of the Aurors was called in for a briefing with the Minister of Magic and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (referred to as the D.M.L.E.), he thought it was just a routine mission briefing. After all, there had not been a serious problem for an Auror to deal with, beyond apprehending the average criminal, in decades. So when Oliver walked out of the Ministry lift and into the bustling activity of the Auror offices, he was in a light mood, whistling some tuneless song to himself under his breath.

Though the Ministry building was in fact underground, the fake windows along the walls were magically displying a beautiful day outside, and everything in the large, airy office was lit up with a golden glow. The majority of the open-plan room was taken up by a maze of wooden cubicles, with low, thin walls so that their supervisors could see when the Aurors were shirking their paperwork, which covered almost every shelf and desk within the cubicles. The supervisors, captains, and other holders of special positions were given more private offices around the edges of the room, though the large glass windows into these offices meant that privacy was never truly obtained. On the opposite side of the room to the elevator was the door leading into the office which declared itself to be belonging to the Head of Magical Law Enforcement. It was to this office that Oliver was headed.

Making his way through the web of cubicles and people, Oliver barged his way to the office at the end of the central row, stopping several times along the way to greet friends. He was in no hurry.

"Oliver!" cried one woman – a fellow Auror – as she came up to him and gave his sturdy frame a rather forward hug, before stepping away, brushing her long, light brown hair out of her eyes. Oliver unconsciously did the same to his own straw coloured hair. He always got nervous around Marie, who was very popular among the Aurors – a captain like himself – and in Oliver's opinion quite beautiful. She was almost as tall as him, and had an athletic build, neither being stick-like enough to be called slender, yet not having the curves to be counted voluptuous.

"You coming to this meeting too?" asked Marie with a slight French lilt to her voice, "All this secrecy is rather exciting…they won't tell anyone what it's about!"

"Um – yes – yes, I'm coming…I didn't know you were though," replied Oliver, who was rather startled by Marie's presence and her news. Oliver hadn't known anything about secrecy. He could tell that his day was about to take a turn for the worse. Still, Oliver was never one to back down from a challenge, and grasping a passing strand of courage he managed to stammer out, "Shall we walk together then?"

Marie gave him a lively smile before grabbing his arm and pulling him down the aisle, far quicker than he would have gone by himself, and yet still managing to chat to everyone and anyone as she went. It was not long before they reached the Head's door, where Oliver composed himself (got to look good for the high-ups!) and knocked in a subdued manner, trying to ignore Marie's bouncy attitude next to him, to little success.

Not waiting for an answer, Oliver opened the door and entered the surprisingly dark and stuffy office, holding the door open to let Marie in before letting it close with a soft click. It was a rather plain office, the walls being a bare faded white, and for some reason the blinds over the window were shut, as if someone could see in from the wall of rock that was really behind the glass. To his right, at the end of the rectangular room, several people were already seated around the desk of the Head of the DMLE; all of them were the kind of people you moved aside for in the corridors. Sitting in the most comfortable chair behind the desk, where the Head would usually sit, was the Minister. Opposite him and sitting in front of the desk was the elderly Head of Department – Mortimer Higgs – and the chief Auror – Simon Needam.

"Ah, good good! Captains Thrall and Rousseau! You're the first here," said the Minister, getting up from his chair and drawing his wand, "Do take a seat while we wait for the others!"

The Minister waved his wand and two more seats shimmered into existence next to the desk, before he sat back down into silence. Marie walked over to her seat in her usual fashion and dropped herself down into it, looking around the drab room as if it were her first time in there. Despite her happy exterior, Oliver thought that she looked a bit nervous, and he noticed that she was avoiding looking in the direction of the Minister. Smiling at her when he caught her eye, he moved over to the chair next to her and sat down in it, admiring the Minister's transfiguration skill.

It was not long before the two other Auror captains arrived and they too were seated facing the Minister, who began to speak in a serious tone.

"Well then, now we're all here," said the Minister, "we can begin. Mortimer, if you would brief us on the situation?" the Minister let the end of his sentence trail off, making it sound both like an order and a polite question. Higgs nodded and stood up, making everyone other than the Minister have to turn in their chairs to face him.

"As you will have noticed," said Higgs, while walking away from the desk and towards the back of the room. His voice carried back to them, though his back was turned. "There has been a sharp increase in the amount of Dark activity over the last five years. While the cause of this remains a mystery to us, the Unspeakables believe that they have found a clue as to where it is all coming from. Observe."

He had reached the back of the room, and as he did so he pushed his hand against the back wall, apparently doing nothing. However, not a moment later a huge three-dimensional image of a globe sparkled into existence, floating in the empty space at the back of the room. It was now clear to Oliver why the room was mostly empty. Higgs walked back towards them, moving straight through the illusion, causing it to shimmer as he came out of the Atlantic Ocean to face them. He pulled out his wand and waved it at the slowly spinning planet, causing glowing red spots to appear on various continents.

"Each of these red spots," Higgs continued, "indicates a concentration of Dark magic, which the Unspeakables monitor through a series of instruments placed around the world. This image," – he gestured to the globe – "is a recording of the levels of Dark magic five years ago. As you can see, there are relatively low levels of Dark magic, and it is, in the main, evenly distributed over the world. Now look at today's reading."

He waved his wand once more, and the illusion flickered, before coming back into existence. To Oliver's surprise, almost all the red was gone.

"I don't understand," said one of the captains, "I thought you said that there was _more_ Dark activity."

"I did," replied Higgs, "Wait a moment and you'll see."

And see they did. Just as he finished speaking, Russia slowly spun into view, and with it came the missing Dark activity. The whole of the easternmost part of Russia – Siberia – was covered in one pulsating mass of glowing red dots. _This_, mused Oliver, _is a problem_.

"As you can see," said Higgs to the stunned room, "almost all Dark creatures and beings in the world have migrated to Siberia. This, needless to say, is not a good thing. Anything that can draw together so many Dark creatures and wizards is a danger to us, and must be eliminated. The problem is, we only know _what_ is happening, we have no idea as to how, or why, it is occurring."

"Which is why," interrupted the chief Auror, Simon Needam, "We are planning to send two Aurors undercover as Dark wizards into Siberia, to ascertain what it is that is acting as a magnet for so much darkness. This task can be performed only by the best, which is why it must be done by two of you."

Complete silence met this statement, as Needam looked around the room, giving each of the captains a piercing stare.

"I'll do it."

* * *

Arctarus was waiting.

He was sitting alone in the dark of the Slytherin common room, lounging on one of the black leather armchairs that sat in a semi-circle facing the embers of the open fire. It was past midnight, and the fire had been unattended for several hours, the dull red glow of the cooling embers casting a warm light on Arctarus' face. Though he was staring into the fire, his mind was not on the present.

Many things had changed in the five years since he had found the diary of Harry Potter, and all of them were, in Arctarus' opinion, changes for the better. After only a few weeks of almost constant study of the mysterious diary, his marks had begun to pick up, a result of borrowing Harry's genius. After a couple of months, people began to take notice, hailing him as a future head-boy. Now, five years on, that had changed to future Minister of Magic, and anyone with ambition was falling over themselves, trying to get into Arctarus' good books. For the diary held many secrets, and not just those of magical theory. Arctarus could still remember his surprise at possibly the diary's most shocking secret, which he had discovered the morning after he had found it.

He had just finished a hurried breakfast, and had rushed back to his dorm as quickly as he could, for he was still nervous about the diary being stolen, so soon after he had found it. At that point in time he still only flicked through the pages of the book at random, for he had not yet found one of the many functions of the memoir: the ability to quickly search through the pages for something, like a spell, at just the touch of a wand. So he had ran back to his dorm, tugged the curtains closed about his bed, and simply opened the diary at random, not even selecting a specific year to look at. Though it was now five years since he had read it, Arctarus could still remember that entry as if it were only yesterday, scrawled rather messily on the page.

_June 13__th__, 2002_

_Voldemort has been defeated! I was in the Ministry last night, speaking with Scrimgeour about his Aurors, when the alarms went off. Voldemort had entered the Ministry with a band of Death Eaters, though for what purpose perhaps I will never know. Maybe he was coming for me. Anyway, whatever his intentions, I of course went out to meet him, though I had no hope, for his defeat of me and my near-death at his hands not two years ago was weighing heavily in my mind. Luck had saved me once more that day, but I knew that Luck would not be on my side this time. _

_Since my loss to him two years ago I had been driven to delve into magic, and the Dark Arts, further than I had ever thought I would; I dread to think what Ron and Hermione would think of me were they still alive, never mind Dumbledore. Anyway, I digress._

_So, I went down to the Atrium to meet him – to duel him – on the very spot where Dumbledore had drove him away so many years ago now. Despite my increased magical aptitude, I still went to meet him in despair, for Voldemort truly was the master of all Magics. But fight we did, and it was nothing like what I had expected. I had always imagined the last fight to be in front of Hogwarts, glorious and bloody, with the cries of hundreds in the air. I now realise that this was a foolish notion. A wizard's battle is nothing like that of the Muggles of the middle ages; like modern Muggle warfare, it is all about positioning, and getting one up on your foe. Apparition was the most commonly used magic in our duel, and again, despite my imaginings, it did not last long. Duels tend not to: it doesn't take long for one wizard to lose focus, to make a mistake: and once one mistake is made, the duel is over. _

We duelled further and further into the Ministry, a flurry of apparition and missed spells; enchanted objects and animated guardians were left in our wake. Eventually, though I know not how, we made our way into the Department of Mysteries, and from there to the death chamber, and in there, Priori Incantatem took place once more, and this time with far more spectacular effects. Once again I bested him in the contest of wills, but this time, instead of a few ghostly corpses coming from his wand, a horde of near-corporeal persons came out of the veil of death: everybody Voldemort had ever wronged. His own hate was his undoing. Voldemort's victims looked at me for orders, and I gave them, and they struck down Voldemort at my command. I believe it was Dumbledore who passed the final blow, before I cast his body into the veil itself. His immortality gone, and his body defeated, Voldemort died, and I was hailed the hero of the wizarding world. I don't really know what to think about that.

Arctarus could not believe what he had read. Even after so many years with the diary, it was still hard to credit. Such deadly duels of strange and powerful magic were far from what the world was like today, and Arctarus could not see how such a large part of Wizarding history had been forgotten. _It was probably a cover-up_, he mused.

Arctarus dreaded to think what life would be like had he never found the diary. _I would probably still be a nobody_, he thought with some distain for his old self. While he had been no slouch before, the diary had become so integrated into his life that it was hard to see where the diary's influence ended and the real Arctarus was found. Other people had noticed it too though, and in his third year some jealous Slytherin fifth-year had stolen the diary, which Arctarus rather foolishly carried around with himself for all to see. At first he had panicked, having _his_ diary stolen, but all had turned out well in the end. For Arctarus that is.

For some strange reason – a reason that still escaped Arctarus – the diary did not work for the fifth-year, simply showing blank pages for all except Arctarus. He had of course not known this until he caught up with the thief, and many restless nights had been spent wondering what magics the thief was discovering while he slept.

He had tracked the thief down by a small piece of scrying magic that – no surprises – he had learnt from the diary. From then on it was simply a matter of getting it back. So he had followed the fifth-year to class one day, and when his to-be victim was not paying attention, Arctarus had shoved him through an open door into an empty classroom, calmly walking into the classroom himself before slamming the door closed.

Bang! 

The fifth-year – a pureblood aristocrat called Malfoy – tripped over onto the cold stone floor of the classroom, which clearly had not been used for many years, judging by the layer of dust covering every surface. Other than that it was your average classroom: blank walls, lines of desks, and a blackboard. It was early morning, so the room was well lit: not quite the atmosphere that Arctarus wanted to create, but he would have to make do. Malfoy struggled to get up, but froze when he saw Arctarus standing over him, holding a wand.

"Did you really think that you could get away with it?" Arctarus hissed, trying to lay on the intimidation as much as possible. Malfoy seemed intimidated enough. _Coward_.

"Get away with what?" Malfoy asked, his attempt at sounding innocent failing. Arctarus ignored him.

"_Accio Diary!" _Arctarus thought, and out of Malfoy's bag flew the diary, which Arctarus just about managed to catch. Having retrieved the diary, he was feeling a lot better about himself, and thought he would be a bit adventurous.

"You know," he said to Malfoy, slowly advancing on him, "If you had just gave it back, or admitted to it, I might have let this pass, but now I'm going to have to punish you." If this had sounded at all funny coming from a third year, Malfoy did not show it.

"I'm sorry, I swear!" cried Malfoy, trying to get out of the sticky situation. He had heard stories about this Arctarus kid. "You can have it back – I don't care – its completely empty anyway: I don't know why you're getting so worked up about it!" He was getting desperate now.

Arctarus paused, surprised, before putting the information away for later consideration, and carrying on with his revenge.

"It's too late for that now, Malfoy," he said, and he raised his wand, crying, "_Adflectum!_"

A grey jet of light shot out of his wand and hit the boy on the floor, causing him to cry with pain: Arctarus had hit him with a mild pain curse, one that would last for an hour or so.

"Never. Mess. With. Me. Again." Arctarus had said as he left the room, slamming the door behind him. A very satisfying revenge.

Coming back out his daydream of days past, Arctarus checked his watch. Higgs was late, and he did _not_ like waiting. The embers had burnt low, now giving off almost no heat, and Arctarus was getting tired. Just as he was about to give up and go to bed, he heard the sound of someone coming down the staircase that led to the dorms behind him. Hoping that it was Higgs, and that he wasn't about to sound very foolish, Arctarus spoke into the fire, keeping his voice low,

"Higgs. You're late."

The boy, a sixth year called Higgs, walked closer and sat down in one of the chairs in the semi-circle, as close to the dead fire as he could get. Arctarus did not need to look at the shivering boy to know him; enough meetings like this had taken place between them now for Arctarus to recognise the pale, spotty, face of Higgs anywhere.

"Do you have the information that I seek?" he said, keeping his voice at a whisper to avoid waking anyone, yet trying to add as much menace into it as he could.

"Of course," replied Higgs, a bit too loudly for Arctarus' taste, "But what about my payment?"

This was the routine. Arctarus would demand his information from Higgs, or more precisely, from the loudmouth Higgs had for an uncle. Higgs would then whine about his payment, forgetting that for the past two years he had always got it.

Sighing, Arctarus lifted his hand off the arm of the chair and passed it into the inside of his robes, quickly retrieving a tiny red dragon skin pouch from an inside pocket. He weighed it in the air as if judging its worth before tossing it over to Higgs, who snatched it eagerly, lest it fall into the fire. Higgs took the cord holding it closed and pulled gently at it, peering inside the mysterious bag. A hazy look crossed across his face, and he was almost drooling at the contents of the bag, ignoring the disgusted look Arctarus was sending his way. The distain that Arctarus felt towards such a weak-minded idiot like Higgs was clearly obvious. _Though to be fair,_ Arctarus thought, _it was me that got him hooked on the stuff in the first place_.

"There," Arctarus said, wanting to get to Higgs' end of the deal, "You have your payment. Now, give me the information I require."

Higgs looked up, having snapped out of his reverie, and for a moment Arctarus thought that he was going to ask for more, before he sealed the bag once more and put it in his pocket.

"Alright," Higgs said, "But I haven't got much, mind you" - a dark look crossed Arctarus' face, which Higgs ignored - " only what my uncle slipped to me on the Floo yesterday."

Higgs paused for effect. Arctarus grew impatient.

"Tell me."

"Okay, well it's like this," Higgs whispered, now realising the need for secrecy, "all this Dark activity that you've been asking me about, its all coming from some place in Russia called Siberia. Dunno where that is. Anyway, apparently there's something there that's causing it all, and the Ministry is gonna send a couple of Aurors there – undercover of course – to find out what."

Higgs sat back, finished with his little speech, and clearly wanting to get back to his warm bed.

Arctarus, however, was in a completely different world. This was the news that he had been waiting for, the news he had known was coming. He didn't know how or why, but he had known for years that there was some Dark force rising – he felt its pull – and it had something to do with his diary. Dismissing Higgs back to bed with a wave of his hand, Arctarus turned back to the fire, once again lost in his thoughts.

It was almost the summer, and he was in need of a vacation. He grinned to himself as he got up to go to bed himself. He had heard that Siberia was excellent at this time of year.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Oliver's first impression of Siberia was the white. There was snow everywhere, smothering the landscape like a blanket, clinging to every feature in sight. He was in the middle of a vast and flat plain, broken only by a dense forest in front of him and a tall range of rocky mountains that reared up in the distance behind him. He had arrived there by portkey, discreetly and without a trace, trading the relative warmth of England for the biting cold of Siberia.

It was with relief that Oliver started walking towards his destination: the forest. It was from there that the strongest concentration of Dark magic was coming, and it was into the forest that Oliver had to venture. Luckily for him, it would also provide some comfort from the cold, and protection from the snowstorms that would no doubt occur regularly.

Crossing the eves of the forest, Oliver began to wonder what he had got himself into. The tall pine trees quickly became dense enough to block out almost all sunlight, and in the shadows of the forest it was quickly becoming obvious to Oliver how alone he was. After at least thirty minutes of wandering aimlessly around the maze of trees - not a single Dark creature or wizard to speak of - Oliver began to doubt that he would ever find anything in the forest other than the sounds of twigs snapping beneath his feat and the oppressive atmosphere that made him wish he were anywhere else but the forest.

Of course, the moment that Oliver began to think that he was alone was the moment that this illusion would come crashing down.

He did not notice the strange lengthening of the shadows, nor the way that the sounds of the forest began to dull and fall silent, nor did he notice – as an Auror should have – that strange tingling sensation on the back of the neck that signifies that he was being watched.

So, convinced that he was alone, and blind to the increasing warnings that this was not so, Oliver stumbled on a winding path through the thickening trees, the heat and closeness of the air lulling him into a stupor. He had just passed out of a narrow gap between two exceptionally wide trees into a small, still shadowed, circular glade when his watcher made itself known.

"What do we have here?" Hissed a voice from outside the glade, both quiet and excited at the same time, and as the voice floated languidly through the thick air, a figure, cloaked completely in black but for the sharp, pale face of a man, dropped down from one of the bigger trees on the edge of the glade.

The voice at last broke Oliver out of his daze, startled as if waking from a dream. Mentally kicking himself for his carelessness, he quickly drew his wand and pointed it at the figure, trying to assess his situation. He was alone in unknown territory, against an unknown foe, in a magical glade that he had no doubt been led to by the shadowy figure in front of him. Oliver kicked himself again – this was not good.

"A wizard!" Giggled the figure as the wand was drawn. Oliver became worried for the figure's sanity. Insane enemies were unpredictable. "Oh, I haven't had a wizard in a long time! This…should be fun."

And without any warning, the figure attacked.

Oliver had no time to react as the figure – a vampire, he realised – leapt towards him, travelling through the air at inhuman speed and knocking him hard into the ground, his wand falling from his fingers. Oliver quickly jumped back to his feet, not very injured, and tensed himself, ready for another attack. Nothing happened. Casting his gaze around the forest floor, he tried in vain to find his wand while still trying to keep his eyes on the trees around him. The silence was beginning to unnerve him. Just as he was about to make a run for it, the attack came.

Though he was more prepared for it this time, Oliver's readiness did little to help him. He spun around as he heard a creaking sound above him, and was fixed to the spot as out of the shadows of the canopy the vampire attacked once more, swooping down from above, cape trailing behind, and deep black eyes magically fixing Oliver in place. The vampire took Oliver down again, but this time did not disappear. Oliver was on his back, pinned down to the forest floor by the vampire above him, who was starring expressionlessly into Oliver's face. Suddenly he giggled again, though there was little humour in the vampire's face.

"I had expected better, little wizard," whispered the vampire, a grin spreading over his face as his teeth began to lengthen. "But who am I to complain?"

Just as the vampire was lowering its teeth to Oliver's neck, he regained his wits, and everything happened at once. Grasping around with his hands on the forest floor, Oliver grabbed the first stick that his hand came across, picked it up, and rammed it into the vampire's back as hard as he could, just as he could feel the hard pressure of teeth on the skin of his neck.

The vampire leapt up, screaming, a look of disbelief and pain on his face as his features contorted. Surprised, Oliver rolled over and pulled himself up, and managed to see the last of the vampire's primal screams before it feel to its knees, hands clawing at its own face. In moments it was over, and the vampire fell to the floor, dead, its body shrivelled up as if it was just another long-dead corpse.

Oliver let out a breath that he did not know he had been holding, and approached the dead body, covering his nose. It was safe to assume that the vampire was not just plying dead, Oliver thought as he picked his wand out of the vampire's back with a nasty squelching sound.

He had survived.

* * *

Arctarus was having a good day: he was finally going to Siberia. It had taken him a while to figure out how to get there – after all, sixteen year-old boys do not simply ask to go to Eastern Russia – but in the end he had managed to weave a web of deception so great that even he was confused by it. As far as his family knew, he was going to spend his summer in Birmingham with his uncle, an ex-Auror. But as far as this uncle was concerned, he had been accepted into a summer internship in the Department of Mysteries, who were completely ignorant of this fact – a minor detail. Obviously, the amount of Floo calls that this had taken to achieve, while all the time keeping the various victims of his scheme ignorant, was considerable, and there had been many times when Arctarus had thought that he would be found out.

Nevertheless, they were all fooled, and Arctarus was almost about to depart. Acquiring the actual method of transportation had also been difficult to sort out, as he could not apparate (not that many wizards could apparate that sort of distance anyway), nor did the Floo extend beyond the British Isles, and Portkeys were restricted. In the end he had been forced to buy a ticket for the East-line train, departing from Platform Ten and a Half on the twentieth of August, at eight o'clock in the evening. That was in ten minutes.

Rushing with his trunk through the throng of Muggles, and ignoring the endless jabbering of the Muggle on the other end of the PA system, Arctarus approached a stone pillar on the walkway between platforms ten and eleven that was the barrier to the hidden platform; a barrier that was almost identical to that of Platform Nine and Three-quarters. Leaning against the red brick, Arctarus looked around at the unobservant Muggles, sneered, and passed straight through the brick to the platform beyond.

The train on the platform was not too different from the Hogwarts Express – it was a steam train of similar design, though it was painted green, not red. The platform was surprisingly full, but Arctarus supposed that it was close to the time of departure. He once again pushed his way through the crowd, and as the multitude of wizards would prevent magic detection from the Ministry, he whipped out his wand and flicked it at his trunk, risking a levitation charm. Sending the trunk a mental command to follow him, he climbed into the carriage and shut the door behind him with a loud bang.

He turned from the door into a long carpeted corridor, windows on his left and the doors to cabins on his right. It was quite a luxurious carriage, with wooden panelling on the walls and the cabins being of the highest quality: the journey was, after all, a week long and Arctarus wanted to be in comfort. Glancing at his ticket, he checked his cabin number and walked down the magically lengthened corridor until he found it and went in. Once he saw the inside Arctarus found that he was warming up to the idea of train travel - the fee of one hundred galleons had been well worth it.

After dropping his trunk down and closing the door, Arctarus set about exploring the "cabin". The main door led into some sort of living area, with an open fire, several sofas, and even a bookshelf. Other doors leading away from the main room revealed a bedroom, with a bathroom attached, and a kitchen. There were no windows, but for in the bedroom, and Arctarus was glad for it, as no doubt many parts of the journey would be disconcerting. He seemed to remember something in the brochure about an underwater stage.

Settling down in one of the sofas, Arctarus got out the diary as he felt the train begin to move. He would inspect the bookshelf later, but he assumed that the diary would be all he needed – it was his suspicion that he had not even uncovered half of the diary's secrets. Opening the diary up where he had left off the previous night, Arctarus read into the night, skimming over the boring bits and paying close attention to those parts he deemed worthy of his attention.

_August 31__st__, 2003_

_Despite my reservations, I have accepted the post of Defence against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. I couldn't really say no – Minerva was begging me, and I could not tell her of the reasons why I should not take the job. She wouldn't understand, having spent so much of her time with Dumbledore. I seem to be admitting this more and more lately, but I am afraid. This time not of Voldemort, or any other wizard, but of myself. I feel the itch, all the time, night and day. Within the walls of Hogwarts, with such a trove of magical knowledge and power at my fingertips, I dread what I may do – what I may become. Dumbledore was wrong, in my sixth year, when he said I could resist the Dark arts. No one can. I should not have listened to him, for he made me too bold. If Dumbledore said that I could resist the Darkness of magic, then who was I to argue?_

_I submerged myself in Dark magic on that ill-advised quest, and it sunk its claws into me. What a fool I was to think that I could control it – even with Occlumency, there is no hope. For I had touched not only the magic of the Night, but also the darkest of magics – Black magic. It is true that those, like myself, who have mastery of their mind have greater control than others, and to the outsider it may look like they have tamed the magic, but eventually the darkness wins. Every day is defeated by the night, after all._

_I didn't really have a choice, what with the horcruxes and all, but I still regret it. And now I shall be off to that place which I should have avoided – Hogwarts, the seat of British magic, both Light and Dark. Every day I tell myself that I will not give in, but every night I dream of what secrets await me in the Headmaster's library, which Minerva will no doubt let me access. I fear for my soul, but I shall go nonetheless, and teach those children how to defend themselves from one such as me._

* * *

In the two days since Oliver's encounter with the vampire, he had not seen or heard a single soul. In fact, for a forest that was supposed to be infested with Dark activity, it was surprisingly quiet. He had even begun to think of turning back and returning to the Ministry empty handed, when he found the Tree.

It had not been from any skill on his part that he had found it – quite the opposite, he had almost missed it completely. He had simply been on yet another blind walk through the mess of trees when the forest had begun to thin out, and he found himself in another glade like that in which he had fought the vampire. The difference was that this glade, instead of being empty, had a tree of enormous proportions at its centre, and was so clearly magical that only one as bored as Oliver could have almost missed it.

He quickly began inspecting the tree, instinctively knowing that it was what he had been sent to Siberia to find. Apart from its huge size, and the fact that it looked like it would be more at home in an English wood than a Russian forest, there was something else about it that called out to Oliver, some intrinsic _magicness_ that only a trained wizard would be able to feel. For all his efforts though, Oliver could not discover its purpose. He had determined that it had something to do with movement, and that there were very complex enchantments placed on it – too complex for Oliver to understand – but as for its specific use, Oliver had no idea.

He was stumped, and for all his Auror training he could only think of one way to discover the tree's purpose: to touch it. Glancing around the glade in desperation, he tried to find some other clue that might give away the Tree's secret, but it was a hopeless search, and steeling himself for an undoubtedly painful experience, Oliver reached out his hand and touched the dark brown bark of the trunk.

The world fell away.

It was as if he and the Tree had stayed still, but the rest of the world had dropped out of existence, leaving Oliver hanging in an empty black void, Oak tree standing firm in front of him. For a moment Oliver thought that he might be dead, but then as quickly as it had gone, the world came back in a burst of colour and sound and smells, and Oliver fell to the grass next to the tree in relief. When he pulled himself back to his feet and looked about him, his jaw almost dropped in amazement and surprise.

The world had changed. He found himself on a wide promenade – the high street of some sort of Wizarding settlement - made not of cobbles like Hogsmeade but of dirt, and every building in sight was wooden. There was very little order in the street, as if it had been put together without any planning, and most of the structures seemed to be houses. There were many tracks and alleys leading off the main street, and at the end of the promenade was a building far larger and sturdier than the others – most likely the home and stronghold of whoever was in charge.

To Oliver's relief, no one seemed to bat an eyelid at him popping into existence next to a tree standing in the middle of a street, and this was good for him, as he quickly took note that most of the denizens of the town appeared to be of a Dark nature: werewolves, vampires, hags and all sorts of other Dark creatures, with the occasional Dark wizard scuttling along. It was safe to say, Oliver thought, that he had found the haven of all the Dark forces of the world.

Making his way as unobtrusively as he could through the bustle of people selling their wares - and the occasional fight - Oliver aimed for one of the smaller paths leading from the main street, keen to get away from the hotspot of creatures that would want to kill him if they knew who he was. As he walked away from the high street, the buildings became more irregular both in construction and placing, and Oliver realised that the world had not changed as much as he had first thought: every so often he would spy a tree that still stood, and in the distance he could hear the rustle of leaves in the wind. Obviously, he was physically in the same place as before, but he could not quite understand by what process everything had come to be different. No doubt the Minister would know.

Eventually, Oliver reached what could be called the outskirts of the town, where most of the dwellings were pitifully made, the ground uneven, and the forest encroaching on the territory of the houses. For a brief moment Oliver wondered what to do next, having found what he was looking for, but the solution revealed itself to him almost immediately. He had been sent to infiltrate, so infiltrate he would.

He would need to start by building a shelter.

* * *

Just like the past two days, when Arctarus woke in the morning it took him a few moments of confusion to remember where he was. Despite the thin curtains on the window, the small, square, bedroom of his cabin was filled with the bright sunlight of dawn, made even brighter by the reflective white walls.

This morning though, there was something different: the light was even brighter, and there was an eerie silence about the train, as if it were not moving. Curious, and wondering if the train had stopped, Arctarus sat up on his bed and reached over to the curtains, yanking them open. Though he had guessed what was coming, he still gasped, speechless at the sight before him.

A glorious vista met Arctarus' eyes: the train had left the ground, and was flying in the air, a thick blanket of white, fluffy, cloud beneath it, and nothing but clear blue skies above. If Arctarus squinted in a certain way, he could see hanging in the air, just above the clouds, a ghostly train track made of light, curving into the distance. In his opinion, this was just yet another reason why wizards were better than Muggles.

After staring out of the window for a good twenty minutes, Arctarus finally broke out of his staring contest with the sky and shook himself awake, climbing out of his bed. He went for a quick shower, and ten minutes later was back in his lounge, lying on the sofa, bored. He did not feel much like socialising with the other passengers – especially as he technically was not supposed to be there – and as interesting as Harry Potter's life was, reading about it constantly was a bit much. Still, with nothing better to do he retrieved the diary from his room and took it back to the sofa, not really planning on reading it – just holding it while he stared blankly at the ceiling.

After some time, he started flicking through the pages, just running his thumb through them unconsciously, thinking about nothing. Eventually, deciding to actually do something worthwhile, he sat up and turned the diary to its last page, which was completely blank. After summoning a quill and ink from his trunk with a flick of his wand, Arctarus thought for writing on the page in front of him,

"_Wandless Magic_"

As the words faded into the page and out of sight, Arctarus put the quill to one side and waited to see if he would get a response. It was another feature of the diary that he had found in his third year, and one that was particularly helpful for homework and research. It did not produce any particular entry in the diary; instead, it used the not-inconsiderable intelligence of the diary to formulate a new entry, pulling information from the collective knowledge of the artefact. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. Wandless magic was a subject that Arctarus had seen mentioned a couple of times, but he had never read anything about it in any great detail, and it was as good a subject as any to read about to fill up the time. Eventually, the diary started to write.

_Wandless magic is one of the hardest feats of magic to perform; though it requires no greater level of magical strength than performing spells in the usual manner, spell casting without a physical and magical focus is extremely demanding on the mental powers of the user, and few wizards have the necessary strength of mind to be able to perform even the most simple wandless spell. The theory behind wandless magic is very simple, and is very similar to the theory behind non-verbal magic: you are not removing the focus, you are simply changing the focus from a physical wand to a mental focus. So, to perform wandless magic, just as to perform non-verbal magic one simply has to incant in one's mind, all you have to do is imagine the wand movements in your mind instead of performing them physically. There is, however, one addendum: spells such as the Avada Kedavra, the Lumos, the Incendio…all these spells are incapable of being performed wandlessly, as they need an "exit point", usually the end of the wand, which the human body does not have…_

The writing stopped, and Arctarus read what the diary had explained several times through, not believing the simplicity of what he had presumed to be a vastly complex and mysterious task. Putting the diary to one side, Arctarus quickly got into a comfortable position, intending to get the hang of wandless magic while he had time to kill. Better start simple, he thought, and he cast his gaze over to the quill that he had put down earlier. Thinking of a swish and flick movement, he spoke out in a loud voice,

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Nothing happened. This was a new experience for Arctarus, and so shocked was he by his failure that he sat there staring at the feather for a good five minutes, as if waiting for it to move. When it did not, he tried again.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Cursing, Arctarus turned away from the feather and picked up the diary again, reading through the entry and wondering what he was missing…he was an Occlumens, mustering the mental power needed should have been easy! Calming down, he put the diary down and concentrated, not rushing the process this time. His problem, Arctarus decided, was that when he said the incantation he lost focus on the wand movement, but if he could not focus solely on the movement, as he had to say the incantation too. He had to learn how to be able to think, with all his mental power, on two different things at once.

Mustering all his powers of concentration, and slipping into an Occlumens' trance, he tried again. Swish and Flick.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!_"_

Swish and Flick.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!_"_

Swish and Flick.

"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!"

The feather was decidedly unmoved. It was going to be a long day…

* * *

Oliver was quite proud of his house. It was, perhaps, a bit extravagant for his mission purpose, but there seemed to be some sort of impulsive desire ingrained into all wizards to continually modify and add to their properties, until the level of customisation became ridiculous.

He had constructed it far away from the hub of the "town", trying to keep a low profile, and it far outclassed the crude shelters that he had for neighbours. At first, he had cut down several trees and transfigured the wood into walls and a roof, intending to keep the structure simple, but after ten minutes of sitting in his makeshift hut he had felt the need for change.

So, the grassy floor had been transfigured into soft, fluffy carpet, the wooden walls quickly became stone, and several expansion charms later his hut had become a small flat. And then he gained a second storey, to have a better view of the town. Next came a property line and anti-apparition spells; colour charms were applied to the outside of the "house" to make it more exciting; simple pieces of furniture were conjured and transfigured and to top it off a surprisingly complex plumbing system was installed in the house, complete with heating charms for hot and cold water.

He must have picked up more from Hogwarts than he thought.

He was just adding the finishing touches to the fountain outside when he received a mental prod from his property line, alerting him that he had visitors. Apparently he had attracted more attention than he had planned.

Three figures were heading towards him from the direction of the town. Their little gang was led by a tall man, gone to seed, and he was flanked on either side by two rather stumpy yet muscular men with ugly faces and large teeth. Oliver took the sidekicks to be werewolves in their untransformed state, but it was the man who concerned him: though physically unimpressive, he had the look of a Dark wizard about him. Oliver prepared himself for trouble.

"Well, boys, look what we have here," drawled the wizard, as he walked towards Oliver, "A wizard who thinks he's too good for us, eh?"

Oliver said nothing, knowing that they were spoiling for a fight, but just in case he put his hand in his pocket and gripped the handle of his wand, ready to pull it out at a moment's notice. He wasn't an Auror for nothing after all.

"Nice place you've got here," continued the man as he took a look at the inside of the hut through the door, "I've been hearing things all afternoon 'bout some of the fancy spellwork on this place! News travels fast in The Glade, and nothing happens 'round these parts that I don't know about."

Oliver doubted that: he may be a Dark wizard, but if he were a strong one then wands would have been drawn already. No, Oliver thought it much more likely that this was just a minor Dark wizard, snooping around for someone else.

"I'll tell you what, wizard: I'll make you a deal."

As he said this he waved to the two werewolves who had previously hung back and they came forward to stand, once again, on either side of the wizard. Oliver slowly started to pull his wand out; things were about to get nasty.

"You let me have this little set-up you've got here, and my friends here won't have you for their lunch. How's that sound?"

Oliver sprang into action, whipping out his wand and thinking, _Stupify! _A bolt of red light shot from the end of his wand and hit the werewolf to the left of the wizard before they even realised what was happening. Oliver quickly sent off two more stunners, but his opponents had finally woken up and managed to dodge them.

"Bad move, wizard!" snarled the Dark wizard, pulling out his wand and aiming it at the werewolf who was still dodging Oliver's spells. "_Alutus Lupio!_"

No visable spell came from the Dark wizard's wand, but the effect of his magic quickly became clear to Oliver who watched, horrified, as the man who but a moment ago had been dodging his spells transformed into a giant grey wolf.

The wolf quickly charged at Oliver, who had to jump to one side to prevent himself getting mauled by the beast, winding himself as he hit the floor. Luckily for Oliver, the wolf had judged its leap badly, and had flown right into the stone fountain that Oliver had made not ten minutes before, both smashing the fountain and knocking itself out. Oliver shot a stunning spell at it for good measure.

_Right,_ thought Oliver, _two down, one to go_.

However, the enemy wizard had not been idle while Oliver combated the werewolf, and even as Oliver was getting up a variety of spells shot towards him, and he had to roll out of the way to avoid being hit by some nasty-looking curses. Thinking quickly, Oliver kept hold of his wand and, just as he was coming out of his roll, pointed it in the direction of the Dark wizard, thinking, _Exicio!_

A bright blue light flared at the end of Oliver's wand and the Dark wizard was hurled into the air, as if he were attached to a string in the sky and it had just been given a good yank. After he had flown about ten metres he landed back on the ground with a _thud_. Oliver prepared himself for another attack, but it never came, the injured wizard instead standing up and shouting,

"You'll regret this, wizard! Just you wait!"

And with that he ran off.

It was not over yet.

* * *

When Arctarus came up with his plan, he was certain that it would work. Now, however, he was beginning to have doubts. Being completely lost in the middle of a vast snow covered plain with no signs of civilization in sight will do that to a person. He had got off the train by broom, as there was no train station for the magical locomotive in Siberia, and it had been a rather interesting experience, to say the least. Flying out of a window on a broom was hard enough as it was, but the problems of a trunk in tow and a fast-moving train to avoid made it all the harder. Nevertheless, he had managed to reach the ground, roughly where he had intended too, so he had been happy.

Until he looked around that was. Nothing made Arctarus so glad that he was a wizard than that moment when he realised that he was all alone in a dangerous and unforgiving country.

Sitting down on his trunk with a sigh, and casting a warming charm on himself, he pondered what his next move should be. Looking back, Arctarus realised it had been rather foolish running off to Siberia on a whim – on nothing but a feeling – but he had become used to trusting his instincts. At least he could survive with magic, Arctarus thought. For a while, at least.

Deciding that he wasn't going to have a sudden revelation as to what he should do, Arctarus stood up and started walking in a random direction – the direction he felt the best about. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he liked this direction; it was as if it were pulling at him. Smiling, Arctarus realised his instincts had been right: there was something here, and it was calling to him. For now though, he had some walking to do.

* * *

The dark of night pressed in on Oliver as he crouched in a bush, keeping watch from the tree line by his hut. He was not a fool: he knew the Dark wizard would be back, and he wasn't willing to sleep somewhere where his enemies knew him to be. So he had retreated to the trees, waiting for the wizard to come back. He had been there for several hours now, sitting under the starlight, wand in hand and with a tree to his back. Every so often he would almost drift off to sleep, but then he would jolt awake as if he were burnt: a useful hex to use on yourself, if you knew the counter.

He was beginning to think that he had just been paranoid when he heard it: voices, so quiet they were almost whispers, approaching from the direction of the town. He clutched his wand harder as he waited to see who it was.

A group of people, five strong, appeared from behind the shack closest to his hut and started to walk towards his dwelling. The Dark wizard was there, but it was clear that he wasn't in charge of this group; this time, he was the sidekick, cringing in the shadow of a wizard of much greater stature, who had stopped to stand next to the fountain that Oliver had fixed after the fight. The new wizard – for Oliver was sure the new leader was a wizard - was tall and skeletal, bald, and his skin was pale like a vampire's. He carried an air of confidence and power about him, and was obviously used to being in-charge. To his right stood a beautiful woman – another vampire - dressed regally in long and flowing black robes with long, dark red hair blowing gently in the breeze behind her, but her beauty was not innocent like that of Marie's. Seduction almost came off of her in waves, emphasised by her alluring curves, and Oliver knew that, though she may not be as powerful as the Dark wizard, she held a dangerous power of her own. To the wizard's left stood a pair of male vampires – twins by the look of it – their skin as pale as the moon above, glowing with an unearthly light. All four of them looked dangerous, and the stocky Dark wizard Oliver had met earlier seemed out of place next to such majestic power.

"Anton, search the house," the lead wizard commanded in a whisper, and the fat wizard grinned, taking out his wand, and shot a spell at the door of the hut, smashing it open. One of the vampires – the female - clucked in disapproval, but said nothing.

"Come out, come out, little wizard!" Anton taunted gleefully as he entered the hut, and for a moment there was silence as he looked around, but then a call came from inside the house,

"There's nobody here!"

Anton came back out of the house, a scowl on his face, and waited at the doorway for his next orders.

"Don't worry, Anton, we'll find your wizard," said the leader, speaking in a louder voice now. He was smiling, as if he were pleased by Oliver's absence, and his voice had a melodious quality to it, now that he was speaking above a whisper.

Oliver stiffened in his hiding place as the lead wizard took out his wand, wandering what magic was about to be done to find him. This new wizard looked powerful, as far as looks can tell these things, and though he had placed wards about his hiding place, Oliver was uncertain as to how they would hold up against this unknown force.

The wizard brought his wand up to point at the sky in a grand sweeping motion and cast a spell, the power of which caused the hair on the back of Oliver's neck to stand on end. A tiny pinprick of red light shot up from the wand into the night's sky, and there it hovered for a moment, before it started to swirl into a large glowing vortex of red and green light. _The whole of the town must be able to see it_, Oliver thought as the spell began to take shape: the vortex flattened out and stretched until there was a thin, glowing, translucent blanket of sparkling magic hovering above the town like the Aurora Borealis. Then the wizard brought his wand down again with a _swish_, and the blanket of light slowly fell down upon the city without a sound.

Oliver could see it getting closer, and began to panic; there was no way to escape, he was certain he would be found; it was falling now onto the roofs of the townhouses and soon it would wash over him. Now it was smothering the lead-wizard with its power, and slowly, ever so slowly, it reached down to the level where Oliver was sitting, and clothed him in light for a just a moment, before it dissipated on the grassy floor. Nothing happened.

Did it not work? 

But this was a foolish hope, and the wizard turned instantly to where Oliver was hiding as soon as the spell was finished. He smiled, showing a mouth of gleaming white teeth.

The two male vampires seemed to pick up on the wizard's intentions, and started to advance towards the bush where Oliver was hiding: the game was up. Deciding that it would be better to go out fighting than sitting down, Oliver gathered his courage and stood up out of the bush, holding his wand in front of him, and said in what he hoped was a firm voice,

"Come no further."

The vampires stopped walking; Oliver was surprised that they had actually done what he commanded. Perhaps he was firmer that he had thought.

"Peace, wizard! We mean you no harm!" said the lead wizard, his voice gentle, and though Oliver doubted his words, there was a soothing element to his voice, and Oliver's wand began to point closer towards the ground.

"I am Cain," he said, gesturing lazily at himself, "And these are my associates, Kyran, Nahum, and Eve. I believe you are already…acquainted with Anton."

Oliver took in their names, committing them to memory, and noticing the slight curling of the lip that appeared on Cain's face as he mentioned Anton. He was clearly the odd one out. There was silence for a few moments, and Oliver realised that he was supposed to speak next.

"Why are you here?" He asked, and indeed he did wonder, for if they meant to kill him then Oliver suspected that he would already be dead.

Cain smiled. It had been the right question.

"You are quite skilled with a wand," he began, nodding towards Oliver's hut, "and yet you hide all the way out here, far from the centre of my town. A man of your talents could be of some use to me – I often find myself in need of _competent_ help."

The last, jeering, remark was aimed at Anton, Oliver knew, and it was with some satisfaction that Oliver saw the scowl on Anton's face intensify.

"You're offering me a job?" Oliver asked, surprise in his voice. Dark wizards were not supposed to offer Aurors jobs, they were supposed to fight each other. He then looked at Anton. "Don't you already have people for that?"

Cold laughter rang out into night as Cain followed Oliver's gaze to Anton, who was looking like he was itching to curse Oliver where he stood.

"You mean Anton?" Cain asked, disdain now clear in his voice. "He is expendable. _Avada Kedavra!_"

Oliver's eyes widened with shock as a violent jet of neon-green light shot from Cain's wand and slammed into Anton, who slumped onto the ground, dead. Cain took a deep breath, as if he were savouring a good smell.

_An Unforgivable Curse! _Oliver thought, his mind numb,_ no man dares to use them!_

Cain seemed to notice Oliver's shock, and laughed again.

"Yes, I dare use them," he said, speaking gravely, "And what power! That, wizard, is what magic is about.

"Now, I grow weary of this place. Come with me, wizard, we have work to do."

Not even thinking of disobeying after that casual display of the Darkest of magics, Oliver fell into step behind Cain as he swept back towards the town. The vampires stood on either side of Oliver. Were they guarding him, or keeping an eye on him, Oliver wondered, but there was no way for him to know. They slipped into a dark alley as the buildings grew dense enough for alleys to form, and soon enough they were on the main street, heading towards the large residence at the end of the road.

The vampire named Eve was walking – swaying – to his right, and as he looked at her she smiled at him: not a warm smile, but a sly smile that promised much more. For a moment the image of Marie's face entered Oliver's head and for some reason he felt guilty for appreciating the vampire's beauty.

"You must forgive Cain's manners," Eve purred, her voice low and her breath hot as she whispered into his ear, her hand on his arm, "He is a busy man, and cannot afford pleasantries. But now, we have time. What name do you go by?"

"Oliver," said he, and he instantly regretted it, wishing he had come up with a false identity. _Too late for that now._

"Oliver…that is an English name, is it not?" called Cain from in front of him; he had obviously been listening in to every word. Oliver began to panic, his heart racing – something the vampires would no doubt notice – and he mumbled some incoherent answer. He needed to be more careful, or he would end up dead.

They continued on in silence, and soon enough they reached the wooden gates of Cain's headquarters. The gates appeared to be the only way in through the tall wall that surrounded the large building, and they opened automatically as the group approached, letting them in to the grassy hillock on which the building sat. The building itself was, like everything in the glade, made of the wood of the forest, but it was on a much grander scale. It was built quite clearly with magic, and though the main structure was a reasonably stable rectangular shape, several stories high, there were also a variety of towers and turrets sticking out of the building in odd places; no doubt they were later additions to the original building. There were very few windows, and none whatsoever on the ground floor.

The sinister group headed towards the front entrance to the manor: a large arched doorway set into a porch, covered in runes. Cain stopped in the porch and the rest of the group followed his lead, waiting for him to speak.

"You go on ahead," he said, speaking to the vampires, "I'd like to have a little talk with Oliver here, alone."

The vampires nodded and they opened the door with a creek. Oliver caught a glimpse of a large and stately entrance hall before the vampires entered and the door was closed again. Oliver turned to look at Cain, his mind racing, wondering if he was discovered already.

"Before you join us, there is a small job I'd like you to carry out for me."

Oliver was relieved, yet a new fear had come upon him: what if he was asked to kill?

"Anton was to carry it out tonight, but I think, as he has moved on to new employment, that the job should suit you just fine."

"What is it?" asked Oliver, impatient to get it over with. Cain looked annoyed at being interrupted, but answered Oliver's question regardless.

"There is an intruder in my wood: a young wizard, yet he brings with him a power that is unknown to me. I have attempted to scry its nature, but it eludes me. I want you to go into the wood, and catch him – it should not be hard for one of your talents – and bring him to me, alive. You will find him camped West of the gateway into this realm."

Having said all he was going to say, Cain promptly turned his back on Oliver and entered into the house, and Oliver got another glimpse of the entrance hall, this time feeling the heat of a fire too, before the door shut him out. Obviously, he was the lowest ranked of the group.

Sighing, Oliver turned from the mansion and walked out of Cain's castle, heading towards the Tree that had brought him to The Glade. Though he was reluctant to do so, he had a boy to catch.

* * *

When Arctarus had finally come upon a forest after hours of walking, he knew it to be what he had been looking for. As soon as he crossed its borders, a sense of _rightness_ overcame him, and as soon as he found somewhere suitable, he set up camp. Which basically meant that he cast a basic ward-spell and then slumped against a tree, exhausted. It had not taken him long to fall asleep, made drowsy by the swaying of the trees and the rustling of the leaves. He was completely oblivious to the worry that his appearance had caused a powerful Dark wizard, and unaware that his very presence in the forest was causing the power that resided there to begin to stir.

Were he awake and not exhausted, Arctarus might have been more careful, but as it was he was dreaming.

He was back in Hogwarts, yet not…everything was different; _he_ was different: taller, more powerful-feeling, with messy black hair and shocking green eyes that stared back at him from a mirror in an office. He was sitting at a desk – the desk in the old Defence office, Arctarus knew – and was scribbling notes all over a scroll of parchment, muttering to himself, yet not controlling the words that came out.

"Yes, yes, that's it: mind, body, and soul act as anchors…won't have to split…body is the problem, how to control it?"

Arctarus knew he was hearing something important, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out what: he had the feeling that, even were he to hear the full explanation as to what he was muttering, he would still be as confused. Perhaps if he were to ask the diary…

"The diary!" His body shouted, though it was not through his own will. "Yes, the mind and the body meet, and then the soul makes it one…. Minerva mustn't know, she wouldn't understand…pushing back the boundaries of magic…"

The dream seemed to go on, but Arctarus lost his awareness of it, and it occurred to him that he was waking up. He drifted happily through the blackness of sleep, the void between waking up and dreaming, but suddenly a warning screaming in his mind, and he knew something was wrong: his ward! Something had broken through!

His panic breaking him out of his slumber, Arctarus woke with a jerk, opening his eyes to see the figure of a man starring down at him though the black of night. He was about to reach for his wand, when the figure moved, and Arctarus had no chance of dodging before the figure raised a wand and a red light shot at him. Arctarus fell back into the darkness of sleep, but this time he would not dream.

* * *

It had not taken long for Oliver to find the boy. He was barely out of the glade when he came upon him, sleeping up against a tree near the Western edge of the forest. Similarly, it had been easy enough to subdue him: the presence of the ward had surprised Oliver, but it was a harmless one, meant to act as a warning to its owner only, not protection. He had been forced to act quickly after the ward was tripped though, and before he could think about the meaning of the boy's presence he had stunned him, just as the boy was waking.

Now he had to decide what to do.

His mission was clear: to infiltrate the Darkness in the Siberian wasteland, and either neutralise it or report back to England with information on it. So far, things had gone relatively well: he had survived several attacks, and was now in the inner circle of the leader of The Glade. This boy complicated things. Oliver was loath to let any child come to harm, even if they were budding Dark wizards, but to do anything other than obey Cain would compromise his situation. So he had a choice: save the boy and return to England empty handed, or hand the boy over to Cain, and continue to gather information.

_What a choice,_ thought Oliver, yet deep down he knew it was no choice at all. The needs of the many came before the needs of the few. Hardening his will and trying to ignore his conscience, he gathered the boy's things and levitated them, along with the boy, back to the Tree. Unlike his first visit, the journey between the two realities was instantaneous, and soon enough Oliver was back at the gates of Cain's mansion, boy in tow.

Surprisingly, the gates opened automatically for him, and he walked slowly towards the only entrance he knew of. Letting the boy down and putting his wand away lest he be perceived as a threat, he knocked on the door and waited. He did not have to wait long.

It was Cain himself who answered, throwing open the door, causing warm light to pour out into the night, and rushing out onto the porch, where he ignored Oliver completely and went straight away to the boy.

"I felt you coming as soon as you entered the Glade," he said as he searched the boy's pockets, taking his wand and a small black book.

"Kyran!" the vampire answered Cain's call instantly, appearing at the doorway like a wraith. "Take our guest up to one of the more secure bedrooms." Kyran nodded and obeyed, moving over to the boy and picking him up with one hand, as if he were a doll. Flinging the boy over his shoulder, he went back inside, presumably taking the boy upstairs. Before he could follow, Oliver's attention turned back by Cain, who began to speak.

"You have done well, Oliver," said Cain, smiling that white smile, "You may sleep in my house tonight; I think you shall find the accommodations most comfortable. But first, I wish to show you something, wizard to wizard. "

Cain walked inside and finally; Oliver got to enter the house, warmth washing over him as he entered, the door sweeping shut behind him. He was in a large room with a high ceiling and lavish furnishings. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Everything was made of wood, and yet it did not burn as a large fire blazed in a fireplace set into the East wall. There were many seats facing the fireplace, and tables for drinks, and in the corner of the room was a grand piano. Oliver doubted that it had ever been played. On the West side of the hall was a wide staircase leading to the higher floors, but Cain did not take it, instead crossing to the wall opposite them and walking through a part of the wall as if it were not there.

Oliver hesitated for a second, and then followed. As soon as he came out the other side, he knew he had travelled far more than just the length of a wall: he was now underground, in a small tunnel made of earth and held up by wooden supports, just big enough for him to stand in. There was no lighting, yet Oliver could just about see through the darkness: Cain was ahead of him, walking up the tunnel towards what looked to be a bright light.

Oliver followed him and as he walked further and further the light got brighter and brighter, and with it came a sense of overwhelming power: the air was saturated with magic, and it almost became hard to breathe, so thick was the air with it. By now Cain's figure was silhouetted against a wall of white light, and he had stopped at what looked to be the end of the passageway. He turned back to look at Oliver, smirked, and walked through the wall of light. Showing no hesitation, Oliver followed him and once he was through, the light seemed to dim, and Oliver found himself able to see clearly. He was in a massive underground cavern, at the shore of a large underground lake. Yet it was no ordinary lake. It was filled not with water, but with some sort of glowing silvery substance – the source of light, Oliver realised – and it cast strange shadows over the cave. Cain was standing right at the edge, just inches from the liquid, but he seemed unwilling to touch it.

"What is it?" asked Oliver, his voice echoing loudly even though he had tried to whisper.

Cain ignored his question.

"When I first arrived here," he began, still facing the lake, "I was the first. It was I who discovered this place, I who built it and protected it from the eyes of those who would wish to harm it. And yet, this was here before me.

"I do not know what it is, young wizard," he continued, turning around now to face Oliver, his face lit up with a dark light, "But whatever it is, it is powerful, and it is waking up."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Arctarus dreamed.

It was a strange feeling, being in a body yet at the same time, not. He experienced everything that the body experienced, felt everything that it felt, but the body was not his to control. He was simply a spectator, watching the world around him play out.

It was the same body as before, and he was once again in Hogwarts, this time not in an office but walking determinedly through one of the cold corridors. It was the late evening, and a chill hung in the air as he walked towards a stone gargoyle set into an alcove. He stopped before the alcove, straightened his robes with a sigh, and said,

"Bumblebee."

For a moment, Arctarus was confused, but all was revealed as the stone guardian started to revolve slowly around, revealing its treasure: a spiral staircase leading upwards. He took the staircase and the entrance started to close behind him, inadvertently shortening his walk to the top, where a heavyset door awaited him. He knocked.

"Come in, Harry."

So it was true, Arctarus thought as he opened the door and entered the office beyond; he was in the body of Harry Potter. The office beyond was a large one, but its occupant appeared to be bereft of enough furniture to fill it. There were bookcases filled with books, many portraits hanging on the walls, and various cabinets holding magical artefacts, but somehow it seemed to Arctarus to be rather bare. He closed the door behind him and took a seat in front of the large desk that controlled the centre of the room, behind which sat an elderly witch with a stern face.

"You wanted to see me, Minerva?" he asked, leaning back in his seat nonchalantly and folding his hands together on his lap.

"Mr. Potter, a disturbing rumour has reached my ears," she began in a firm voice, but Arctarus thought that he could detect a hint of worry, and perhaps even a croak of sadness in her tone, and she looked like she was reluctant to carry on. "It has come to my attention that you have been-" she faltered here, and for a moment Arctarus thought that she might cry, before she cleared her throat and carried on, "-that you have been practicing magic that Professor Dumbledore himself banned."

Arctarus shifted in his seat, and his hands moved to grip the armrests. It was a subtle movement, but one that Arctarus noticed gave him greater freedom of movement.

"Really, Minerva," Harry replied smoothly, magic lacing his voice. "I would've thought that you of all people – you who have known the rumours that I have suffered in the past – wouldn't give credence to such things. People will always be-"

"Do not play coy with me, Mr. Potter!" demanded the headmistress, anger in her voice as she stood up behind her desk, age doing nothing to slow her vehemence. "I taught you as a boy, and you couldn't charm me then – don't even try now!"

She took a breath, steadying herself.

"I can't believe how blind I have been, looking the other way while you conducted your 'experiments' – all the staff felt the Dark magic that was thrown around tonight; I had a good mind to call the Aurors!"

She seemed to compose herself now, and sat back down at her desk, peering over at Harry, who had stayed motionless for the whole of her tirade.

"I know the hard life that you have been dealt, Harry, and it is for that reason that I shall let you go without informing the Ministry, but I must ask that you leave the castle, at once. There is no place for Dark wizards at Hogwarts, especially one of your…stature. I am sorry."

Arctarus finally moved, sitting up straight in his seat. He knew that his face would look blank – unfeeling – but even he could feel the rage that Harry felt.

"Minerva…you _cannot_ be serious."

"I have nothing more to say to you, Mr. Potter," she replied, turning back to some piece of parchment on her desk. She was clearly trying to dismiss him. "You will kindly pack your things and leave."

"No."

"What?" said Minerva, and the earlier anger had returned as she looked up from her desk at Arctarus, who was still sitting down as if he were talking about the weather over a cup of tea.

"I said, no," Harry repeated, and as he said this he stood up, tall and imposing, casting an eerie shadow over the desk. Arctarus thought that the light in the room was beginning to dim. "I was reluctant to come here ten years ago, but now I am here I have grown used to the comforts of Hogwarts: I shall not leave. You'll have to come up with alternative arrangements."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed and she too stood up, and Arctarus noticed that she had her hand in her robe pocket, probably clutching her wand.

"Mr. Potter, I grow tired of this foolishness. You will leave at once, or the Aurors will-"

Harry's wand was in his hand like a flash, pulled out of thin air as if it had been hovering next to his hand, invisible, and before McGonagall could even react he had brought it through the air in a grand sweeping gesture, as if he were swinging a lasso around his head. A trail of golden light fell from the tip of his wand, like a shining thread, and when the thread was connected in a full circle, a wave of rich golden light roared away from his person in all directions like the shockwave of a bomb, destroying everything it hit. Glass smashed, portraits caught fire, desks were overturned, paper was shredded, and Minerva McGonagall was thrown through the air like a rag doll, hitting the stone wall of the office with a thud before sliding to the ground, dead.

Arctarus paused for a few seconds, took in the devastated office, and then turned from the room, rushing out of the door and down the stairs, ignoring the shouts of the portraits, intending to get out of the castle as soon as he-

"_Ennervate_"

Arctarus woke as if he had been dowsed with cold water, coming back to consciousness with a gasp, the dream still vivid in his mind. His body felt strange at first, like he didn't belong there, but after a few moments he gained his bearings and sat up on the bed he was on, looking around. A man was sitting in front of him.

He was in a small bedroom, Spartan in its furnishing, with just a small, uncomfortable bed and a small, plain desk in the corner. The man who had woken him was tall and skeletal, with expensive looking black robes and pale skin. He was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, and he was holding Arctarus' diary.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Arctarus Greengrass."

His voice was cool and melodic, washing over Arctarus' ears like the rustling of leaves or the soft lapping of waves upon a shore. For a moment Arctarus was lulled into a sense of security and trust with the man, but quickly alarm bells started to ring in his head. Who was this man? How did he get here? How did he know Arctarus' name? And why did he have the diary?

Trying to look as if he were taken in by the man's magic, Arctarus studied him. It was clear he was a wizard, and Arctarus knew that he was most likely outmatched: he may be strong, but this wizard simply oozed confidence, and his appearance, though ugly by traditional standards, was transfixing.

"I am Cain," he said simply, giving a warm smile as he said it. There was ice behind that smile, but Arctarus couldn't stop himself from smiling back. "I rescued you from a man who had stunned you in the woods – you ought to be more careful around these parts."

Arctarus couldn't help but wonder if Cain was genuine. Thinking back to the man who had stunned him, from the little Arctarus could remember his attacker had been shorter, and had a more muscular build…maybe this Cain was for real after all. Cain had paused, but just as Arctarus was about to ask after his wand, the stranger spoke once more.

"Tell me, young wizard," Cain began slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Your diary: I am greatly interested in it. It has some potent magic within it, yet its pages are blank…what spell have you cast upon it?"

The warning bells went off once more, and this time Arctarus would not be snared again. Cain had his diary, his wand and all of his most important possessions. He lived in a wood filled with Dark magic, had apparently gone through at least one magical transformation, and he sought the diary's power. Arctarus got angry.

"There's nothing special about the diary," he lied, badly. He wanted it back. "I should like it back please. Where's my wand?"

He knew instantly he had gone too far and given the game away. Cain's kindly façade fell, and the temperature of the room began to drop. When he spoke, all musical quality had left his voice; it was as harsh as fingernails on a blackboard.

"You're far to impudent for my liking, boy," he snarled, standing up from his chair. "I thought you might have had a shed of intelligence in you, but I must say that I was wrong. Now, tell me about the diary or you'll find out how a real wizard plays. Ever heard of the Cruciatus, boy?"

Arctarus froze. He had heard of the Cruciatus of course, what Slytherin hadn't? But never in his life did he suspect that it would be used on him. Fear began to take hold of him, but he didn't respond fast enough for Cain's liking, for even as he began to open his mouth to tell Cain of his secret, pain upon pain surged through him and he began to scream and writhe on the bed. But it was not over.

Though somewhere in his mind, behind the pain, he knew it must have been an illusion, he could have sworn that he saw thin yet amazingly painful lines of blood slowly draw themselves up his arms and legs, as if a sharp knife were running over his skin, splitting open his flesh. And was that smoke coming out from underneath his clothes? It was; he was on fire! As soon as he realised this, the sensation strengthened and it felt as if flames were engulfing him, his skin cracking and blistering and turning black as it scorched and melted underneath the strength of the flames. At the same time as this, a strange taste entered his mouth, as if oil were being poured down his throat, choking him, sending him dizzy with the taste and fumes; he tried to spit it out, but his mouth was locked open, an iron grip locking his jaw in place. A gurgling sound filled the room as his screams were drowned by the thick, black, fluid in his mouth; he couldn't take it anymore, he just wanted to die, for it all to be over, for the pain to stop…

And it did. The flames died, the cuts healed, his mouth was clean, yet the memory of the last ten seconds was still engraved on his mind, and Arctarus rolled over on the hard wooden floor – he must have fallen off the bed at some point – and he sobbed into his chest.

Cain looked down upon him, satisfied.

"I shall return tomorrow," he said coldly, pushing Arctarus over with his foot so that they could see each other's faces. "You will tell me about the diary then, or I shall cast it on you again, and next time I shall not be so generous."

* * *

Cain walked out of the boy's room into a long, pleasantly lit, corridor, carefully locking the door behind him, and headed down the softly carpeted passage to where it expanded out onto a landing. He looked down from the top of the staircase into the airy entrance hall; no one seemed to be around, so Cain descended the stairs and took one of the leather armchairs near the fireplace lit with Gubraithian flames.

He placed the diary on his lap and stared at it for a while, trying to discern its power, but once again it evaded him. The diary was frustrating him to the point of rage: he could feel its power, yet he could not utilise it, nor understand it.

"You are not a horcrux," he spoke to the diary, and himself. "I can tell that much…yet you _feel_ like one."

He reached for his wand.

"I wonder…" he whispered, musing to himself, and with a flick of his wand he conjured a quill; a prod of his wand made it ever-inking.

He flicked open the diary to a random page, took up the quill, paused for a moment, and then wrote upon the page.

What are you? 

He watched, transfixed, as the ink seeped into the page and soon he was left with a black piece of paper once more. For a moment it looked like that was going to be all that happened, but just as Cain was about to slam the diary shut in frustration, writing began to appear on the page.

You are not Arctarus, Dark wizard. What are you doing with my diary? 

The diary did not belong to the boy then, Cain thought as he read the message scrawled on the paper, excitement at finally making progress running through him. The power of the diary would be his yet. Taking up his quill once more, he pondered what to write next, and was just lowering the quill to the page when-

CRASH!

The fireplace – and the wall behind it - exploded into the room, and only Cain's quick reactions saved him from the flying debris, as he quickly cast an Imperturbable charm on himself, causing the burning shafts of wood to swerve to avoid him as they rocketed through the air. Several chairs were skewered with sharp lengths of wood and the grand piano was on fire. Cain waited, wand at the ready, for the attack to come.

Spells of every description started flying out of the smoke-filled hole where the fire had once been, and Cain spun on the spot, apparating to the other side of the room to avoid the jets of light. Needing to get the smoke out of the way, he conjured up a wind, pointing it at the smoke, causing it to billow out through the gap in the wall and into the morning air. Standing in the hole in the wall was a single wizard of average height and stature: solely unimpressive. Cain was surprised he had been able to do as much damage as he had.

Deciding to end it quickly, Cain gave his wand a flick and the room was suddenly filled with large wooden golems, burning with eternal fire, transformed from the pieces of wood that had previously made up the wall. At a silent mental command they started to advance surprisingly quickly at the wizard, who tried to destroy them with spells and jets of water, to no avail. Eventually the intruder was forced to apparate further into the room to avoid the golems, and Cain took advantage of the disorientation of apparition to hit him with a stunner.

Dissipating the golems and casting a repairing charm at the wall, Cain moved towards the now-unconscious body of the man who had attempted to assassinate him.

"Who is he?"

Cain looked up to see Eve and Oliver standing at the top of the stairs, most likely drawn by the noise of the fight. It was, of course, Eve who asked the question, her sultry voice sounding seductive to him even at the distance he was from her. Oliver stayed at the top of the stairs, apparently in shock, but Eve descended slowly, wanting a better look at the wizard who dared invade her home.

"I do not know," answered Cain, eyeing the fallen wizard speculatively, and taking note of Kyran entering through the door.

"He looks European," said Eve, bending down to get a closer look, brushing red hair out of her face. "Probably an Auror."

"You're probably right," replied Cain. "I shall question him later. Meanwhile…Kyran, since you've arrived, why don't you take him up to a room upstairs to await our hospitality."

Kyran grinned – an evil grin, full of malice – and picked up the slumped body, throwing it over his shoulder as he had done for Arctarus. He walked up the stairs and was just passing Oliver when the wizard called,

"Wait!"

Everyone turned to Oliver in surprise: the new wizard rarely spoke unless spoken to first.

"He's still got his wand," said Oliver, and he reached out and plucked the wand from up the wizard's sleeve, and placed it in his own pocket.

Cain nodded at him in approval. Eve smiled. Kyran simply grunted and moved off further into the house to lock the man into one of the bedrooms.

"Well then!" said Cain, smiling suddenly. "It's not everyday that someone attempts to kill me – let us celebrate in the town. Eve?"

Not for the first time, Oliver wondered what kind of relationship Cain and Eve had as she placed her arm around his and they walked out of the house, leaving Oliver in silence.

* * *

Oliver was screwed.

Captain Dickens – the other Auror captain who volunteered for the assignment – had been captured. Not only would the man face torture and death, but he'd also blow Oliver's cover. Oliver had to rescue him and get back to England before Cain or any of the others found out about him.

It had been several hours since the attack and Oliver was still alone in the house, sitting in the once-again immaculate entrance hall, staring into the fire as his mind raced. He had Dickens' wand, so that was a bonus, but it was about the only thing Oliver had going for him. He knew he had to act soon: he had no idea when the others would be back, but if he were caught in the act then he'd die – timing was everything.

Well, you know what they say: there's no time like the present.

Oliver got up with a heavy sigh, dreading the possible consequences of his actions, but he quickly shut off those concerns: he was on a mission, and he was going to complete it. Pulling out his wand, he rushed up the stairs and entered the luxurious corridor, whispering,

"_Point me_ Dickens."

His wand jerked in his hand and pointed down the corridor, angling slightly to the right. _He's somewhere on the right hand side then_, thought Oliver and he jogged down the corridor, waiting for his wand to spin to point at a door as he passed by. It happened at the fourth door; his wand gave such a tug on his hand that he almost dropped it, but he gripped it tightly and cast an unlocking spell on the door, causing it to creek open. He checked back the way he had come to make sure that there was no one else around before entering into the room and closing the door behind him.

The room was tiny and completely unfurnished. Dickens lay on the hard wooden floor - still unconscious - and Oliver rolled him over so that he was facing the ceiling before reviving him with a spell.

Dickens came awake with a groan, but almost immediately he had jumped up, almost knocking Oliver over, and reaching for a wand that had been taken away. Seeing Oliver, a look of shock came over Dickens' face.

"Thrall? What're ye doin' 'ere?" he asked, slightly suspicious. Oliver simply held up his finger to his lips, suggesting silence, before reaching into his robes and bringing out Dickens' wand. He handed it over to its rightful owner before they left the room, checking the corridor first and closing the door behind them, relocking it. Oliver was about to indicate the way out when a thought crossed his mind: the boy.

It was by Oliver's decision that the boy was stuck in that place, suffering who-knows-what kinds of torture, and Oliver could not leave in good conscience until he had freed him. So, stopping Dickens with a gesture of his hand, he whispered once more,

"_Point me _prisoner."

Not having the boy's name, the spell took longer to work, spinning around in a full circle several times before it settled on a direction: the door directly opposite Dickens' cell. Oliver was beginning to feel the encroaching worry of lingering too long, and he hurried as he unlocked the door and slammed it open, barely taking in the room. The boy was huddled and quivering on the floor and Oliver cast a Feather-light charm on him, picked him up and walked back out into the corridor where Dickens' was waiting and watching, on the lookout for Cain and his friends.

Oliver was just closing the boy's cell door when a slamming sound came from downstairs, followed quickly by laughter and the murmur of voices: Cain was back.

"Damn."

There was only one way out of the house that Oliver knew of, and that was by the front door. Unfortunately, there were now at least two powerful people between them and their goal.

"Okay, here's the plan," whispered Oliver, thinking on his feat. "You carry the boy-" he handed him over "-And I'll disillusion you both. Then we'll walk out the front door. Once we're past the house wards then we can portkey back to England: I still have my Return Key."

If Dickens thought this was a bad plan, he didn't have a chance to object as Oliver cast a disillusionment charm on him, causing his body to slowly disappear from the head down, as if some sort of invisible-liquid had been dropped on his head. He threw in a silencing charm for good measure.

"Right…" said Oliver to the empty space beside him, "let's go."

Oliver tried his hardest to act normally as he strolled down the corridor towards the stairs. His hand was in his pocket around his wand, just in case, but he held no misconceptions on how an encounter with Cain would end if it came to a fight. Oliver just had to hope that it wouldn't come to that.

He came out of the passage and onto the landing that looked down into the main room; Cain and Eve were there sitting by the fire, glasses of wine in their hands as they conversed, their voices low. Oliver tried to make out what they were saying, but could not make out the words. Still, their position was a stroke of luck on Oliver's behalf – they were far from the door – and it looked like they were to busy with each other to pay him much attention.

Resisting the temptation to try to sneak out without anyone seeing, which certainly would have raised suspicion, Oliver walked straight down the stairs and he had just started towards the door when a call came from across the room.

"Ah! Oliver!" said a jovial Cain, whose cheer appeared to have been bolstered by the wine. "Why don't you join us? We were just talking about some of our more ambitious plans for the Glade."

If he were still undercover, Oliver would no doubt have jumped at the chance to overhear such plans, but for now he had to get out of the house, before either Cain or Eve noticed the very slight shimmer in the air beside him.

"I'd love to," Oliver said, eyeing the door. It looked very close now, teasing him with its presence. "But there's something that requires my attention in town…I'll be back later."

"If you must," replied Cain, slightly put out. But for once the secrecy of Dark wizards was cast in Oliver's favour, and Cain asked nothing of the nature of Oliver's errand, simply nodding to Oliver and turning back to Eve.

Oliver let out an inaudible sigh of relief, and moved towards the door, pulling it open.

"Oh, and Oliver?"

Oliver paused, standing stock still on the doorstep, not daring to move a muscle. After what seemed like an age, he managed to turn his body to look back into the room. Cain was standing up, facing Oliver from the other side of the hall.

"You never should've betrayed me."

Oliver's eyes widened in shock, and he pulled out his wand, casting a shield, but he was too late: Cain had the quicker draw, and before Oliver's shield was even in existence there were two flashes of bright green light hurtling towards him; he had to leap out of their way, and in doing so he brought himself out of the bounds of the house. The wind was knocked out of him as he crashed to the floor, but he kept his senses, and with one arm he reached out into the air beside him, gripping Dickens; he jammed his other hand into his robe pocket, taking hold of the portkey, shouting,

"Activate!"

The last thing Oliver saw before being whisked away in a spiralling vortex of light was the sight of an angry red curse heading right towards his head – he had escaped with but a second to spare.

Their landing back in England was undignified to say the least. They had no cushioning as they fell onto the ground from several feet up in the air, and Oliver groaned as he struggled to his feet, but he quickly smiled as he saw the rolling green landscape about him: he was back in England, and safe.

Looking around the area where he had landed Oliver found the shimmer that he was looking for, and jabbed his wand at it, saying,

"_Finite!"_

The disillusionment charm melted away, revealing a man and a boy lying on the grass, both unconscious. _Strange_, thought Oliver, _I didn't see Dickens get hit by anything…_

He waved his wand at both of them, thinking, _Ennervate!_ The boy blinked as he opened his eyes, then sat up with a look of confusion on his face. Dickens, however, lay unmoving. A chill went though Oliver and he knelt down next to Dickens' body, feeling for a pulse but fearing the worst. He was dead.

Grief welled up in Oliver, mixing with the tension that he hadn't known he had bottled up in Siberia, and he collapsed on the ground, not quite weeping, but his shoulders heaved with sorrow for life cut short. Though he had been an Auror ever since he had left Hogwarts, this was the first time he had faced the death of one of his colleagues.

So taken with sadness was Oliver, that he didn't notice Arctarus standing up, taking his bearings and shutting out memories of burning and smoke and oil. Arctarus knew that he was back in England – the warm summer sun was enough to tell him that - but he was unsure of how he had returned home. What he did know was that he had been rescued, and more than that, rescued from a place that he wasn't supposed to be. He didn't want to face that kind of trouble.

He looked down at the dead man, the one who had saved his life, and noticed that a wand was lying on the ground next to the body. A wand, especially the wand of a dead man, is a sacred thing, and Arctarus knew that he had no right to take it, but desperation can justify many things, and he bent down slowly and picked up the wand. It didn't feel right, but it would do.

His action seemed to stir his rescuer, and the man looked up at Arctarus with confusion on his face.

"Hey, kid, what are you doin-"

A flash of red light from Arctarus' new wand cut off his question, and Oliver collapsed to the ground, stunned. He never had a chance.

"Sorry," said Arctarus to the unconscious body. "But I won't let you take me to Azkaban."

Turning away from the two bodies on the floor, Arctarus looked around the hills. He needed to catch the Knight bus, but for that he needed a road. Arctarus sighed. _More walking._

* * *

Far away in Siberia, a man sat in a dark and airy room, lit only by a small fire burning in the wall in front of him. His pale face was a blank mask, nothing betraying the anger burning within him. All his plans had been ruined by two Aurors, who would no doubt report back to their superiors all that they had found. And then to top it off, they had taken the boy too, stealing Cain's only source of information on the diary.

Cain hated losing.

At least he still had the diary, he mused as he looked down at the small leather book in his lap. Not that that was much use to him: its power was locked away by some great enchantment, and he could not break it.

Suddenly, Cain jumped up as he heard whispering sounds behind him. He spun around on the spot, searching the room for intruders, but all that met his gaze were shadows and air. Still, the whispering continued, faint as the breathing of a vampire; Cain could not make out any words, but a voice was certainly in the room with him.

He carefully picked up the diary and placed it in his pocket – he would not dare to leave it lying around – and started to walk around the room, his steps soft as he strained his ears for a hint of where the sound was coming from. And then, as he was passing the north wall, he thought he heard the whispers get louder. It was coming from the hidden passageway.

Cain paused for a moment, his mind racing as he thought of the possibilities of who could be down in the cavern – a very short list – and he stepped through the wall, intent of finding, and destroying, any intruder in his realm. He paced along the entry passage, having been down there many times before, and passed through the wall of light without a second thought; the whispers were getting louder.

As he stepped into the cavern, the whispers gained in volume dramatically; Cain was now able to discern it as a chant, but there was no one there to speak the words. He lit his wand to add to the natural light of the cavern, just to check that there was nobody hiding in an alcove, but he found no one: he was alone.

Cain then turned his gaze to the silvery liquid of the lake, staring at it intently. It was the only solution: the lake itself was making the chant. He walked closer to the water's edge, and the words finally became clear to him.

_Animus, mentis, corpus,_

_Agon lemma_

_Et Facio mihi unam…_

Though a lake could have no sex, Cain was sure that the voice was male, deep and powerful as it resounded through the cave. Unsure of what to do next, Cain knelt down to do what he had never done before – to feel the powerful silver of the lake – but either by accident or by the workings of some power unknown to Cain, something happened to interrupt Cain's reach.

The diary fell out of his pocket, and into the lake.

With a cry of anguish, Cain lurched forward to grab it, but it was too late: as soon as the diary had hit the surface of the lake, the silvery waters roiled and rose up like a great mouth and consumed it, before returning back to their resting calm.

Cain was about to attempt summoning the diary back from the waters when he noticed that the cave had fallen silent: the chant had stopped.

Then the voice came back, deep and commanding, and this time there was no ambiguity in the words.

_Bring the boy._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The office of Mortimer Higgs was deadly silent. Oliver had just finished recounting the events of his mission to the same group who had met in secret to first discuss it, this time sitting around a conference table. Oliver was trying to avoid looking at the seat across from him, which usually would have been filled with Dickens' loud figure; it was now empty. The Minister, as usual, was the first to speak.

"It would appear that the problem is larger than we anticipated," he said, his cultured voice cutting through the quiet of the office, "the enemy are both more organised and more deadly than we had feared. If, as Oliver says, their leader is willing and able to use the Unforgivables…I can scarce imagine the panic it would cause if the public were to find out."

"I can barely comprehend someone having the ability to use such magic so easily," said Needam, the Head Auror. He turned to look at Oliver. "You're sure that this Cain showed no sign of concentration or effort when casting the Killing Curse?"

Oliver nodded gravely. For some reason, he found the reactions of the others to powerful Dark magic surprising. He must have become more used to Cain's power than he had previously thought, for he no longer considered it an extraordinary feat to see the most powerful curse in existence thrown around like it was a tickling jinx.

Silence filled the office once more. No one knew what to do next; this was a situation unlike any they had previously encountered. Oliver took the chance to sneak a glance at Marie, but she was looking down at the desk, frowning.

"This is grave news indeed," said the Minister at last, once again taking the initiative, "but we must not let it dishearten us. We must rally our forces and prepare our defences, and if possible – strike. The enemy is far away and I think we underestimate the might of the Ministry. The infrastructure we have in place – our monitoring spells, and protections all over the country – gives us the firm advantage on home ground."

His words seemed to be having an effect, for at least some in the room began to sit up straighter and their frowns lessened. After all, it couldn't be that bad, could it?

"In the meantime," said Simon Needam, leaning forward towards Oliver, "I find myself curious about this boy you rescued."

Various others in the room nodded in agreement.

"I suggest we start our renewed investigation with this boy," continued Simon, looking pointedly at Oliver. It was clear who was going to be the one given this task. "He is obviously British, and knows something about that forest if he was able to get there on his own. Oliver, Marie, I'd like you to find him and question him, and if necessary arrest him. You can start by looking at the travel records of all magical-transport services. There can't be many Hogwarts boys travelling to Siberia on their own in the holidays."

Marie looked up as she was given her task and offered the room a smile, though it was only a shadow of her usual cheerful self. She was taking everything quite badly. Oliver was simply glad to be back home.

"Excellent!" cried Mortimer Higgs, finally joining the discussion, "Captains Thrall and Rousseau will search for the boy, Captain Longbottom, will you see to the nation's defences?"

The third captain at the table, a quiet man with a studious air, nodded in acceptance.

"Well then," said Mortimer, "I should think that's about it for today. You best get cracking; I'll be off to the Department of Mysteries to see what they can tell me about this silver-lake-thing."

No one moved.

"Well?" asked Higgs, looking around the room, "What are you all waiting for?"

The room exploded into a sudden flurry of activity. There was a lot of work to be done, and not much time to do it in.

* * *

Far from the Ministry building in London, a forest rustled with the sounds of trees swaying in the wind as the dark of night fell. Birds sung as they went to sleep, squirrels scurried about looking for one last nut, but not a sound within the forest was made by human means. No one ventured into the forest, for though it was beautiful, it was wild and easy to lose your way within the labyrinth of oak and birch. It was an old forest – very old – and though the Muggles who lived nearby didn't know it, very magical.

Near the centre of the wood, deep within the maze of trees and rivers and bushes, there stood one oak greater than all the others, tall and majestic. It did not sway in the wind, but stood firm and resolute in a wide clearing, refusing to bow to anything. It was out of this tree, at midnight, that a group of three people emerged, hooded and cloaked in black, bringing with them an unnatural Darkness that was far deeper than the dark of the night.

Once they were clear of the tree, the travellers quickly got to work, each of them drawing a wand and casting a multitude of spells around the clearing. Each figure appeared to have a specific job: one was placing protective charms around the tree line, another was dong the same but with curses, and the third was transfiguring the clearing to be more enclosed. Then, all at once, they stopped.

"Clear?" asked the one who had been cursing the trees - a man, by the sound of his deep voice.

The other two nodded.

"Good," the first figure said again, and as he did so he moved back to the large tree and knocked on the trunk with his fist, as if it were a door. After a moment, a faint tapping could be heard echoing from the inside of the tree, and the man stepped back, just in time. The bark of the tree had shimmered and out of it stepped a fourth figure, as different from the three men in the clearing as night is from day. Where the cloaked men were plain, the woman who emerged from the tree was beautiful, with long blood-red hair and pale skin, appearing both slim yet curvy, and clothed in a long dress of the highest quality. Eve had come to England.

"Is everything ready?" she asked, he voice sending shivers down the wizards' spines.

"Yes ma'am," replied the wizard who had knocked on the tree-trunk, who was the most collected of the three.

"Excellent. Conjure me a large silver basin, if you will."

Not appearing to find this request strange in the least, the wizard waved his wand in a complex motion, concentration clear on his face, before muttering,

"_Conjuris Inanimatis_!"

The air in front of the wizard coalesced into a large and gleaming silver bowl, which fell to the grassy floor with a thump. Eve knelt down next to it, allowing her hair to obscure her face as she leant over so that her face was looking straight down into the bowl.

"This will suffice," she said in an imperious voice, moving back to her kneeling position. "Now, fill it with water."

Faced with a much simpler task, the wizard simply jabbed his wand at the bowl and a gentle stream of water flowed from the tip of his wand, cascading into the bowl silently.

"Thank you. You will now need to stand back."

The three wizards retreated from Eve, finally settling on a position about five meters away from her. Silence filled the clearing as they watched on curiously. Even the birds had stopped singing.

Slowly, deliberately, Eve reached into the sleeve of her left arm, bringing out a thin vial containing a dark red substance – blood. Still moving in complete silence, Eve took the vial of blood, held it up as if toasting the moon, put it to her lips and slung her head back, letting the blood pour into her mouth. Throwing the empty vial away, she then leant back over the water-filled silver basin, and spat the blood into the bowl. The red liquid clouded and slowly spread through the water, eventually turning the entire bowl a light pink. Once she was sure that the diffusion of the blood was complete, the beautiful vampire stooped even lower, such that her nose was almost touching the surface of the liquid, and whispered,

"Arctarus Greengrass."

The red liquid flashed silver, matching the colour of the basin, before swirling into a series of clear images, flashing by at an incredible speed, before suddenly stopping, the water returning to its pink tint.

Smiling, Eve stood up and turned to face the wizards.

"The boy had returned to his home in London. It should not be difficult to take him, but we must hurry, for we are not the only ones searching, and there are protective spells around his home."

The wizards stayed silent, not being prone to idle chatter, especially around one such as Eve. They watched as Eve walked slowly towards them, her hips swaying temptingly with each step she took. Reaching the wizard closest to her, the one who had been transfiguring the clearing earlier, she draped an arm around his shoulders and reached for his hood, pulling it down to reveal his face, young and soft featured.

"I'm sorry," she whispered in his ear.

"Wha-"

The man's reply was cut off and became a scream when Eve suddenly sunk her teeth into his neck, drinking deeply as his blood flowed out of his neck, the life ebbing from him. After a minute or so, Eve stopped and pulled away, letting the man slump to the floor, dead. She was smiling.

"Shall we go then?" she said airily, as if she were suggesting they go on a walk in the park, rather than having just killed a man.

Both wizards jerked their heads in agreement. No doubt both were wondering if they were going to be next.

Picking up the wand of the fallen wizard, Eve let it slip down her sleeve before taking a firm grip on the arms of the two remaining wizards and, before they could even react, she made to turn on the spot, apparating all three figures out of the clearing without a sound.

* * *

Arctarus Greengrass was sleeping in bed, having returned to his family's town house in London the night before. When he had finally reached home he had been exhausted, both from his ordeal and from all the walking he had to do to get home. When the Knight bus had delivered him to his front door, he had crept in and snuck up to bed, deciding that he would best face questions in the morning when he was fresh and awake. For now though, as usual, he was dreaming.

He was sitting on the edge of a bed in a run-down bedroom, wearing only a pair of old jeans, looking into a long, dirty mirror that hung on a shabby wall with peeling wallpaper. The face that looked back at him was not his own.

His hair was the same deep-black colour, but messier and longer – long enough to cover his forehead. His eyes were a deep and vibrant green rather than Arctarus' dull hazel, and his features had become sharper, his nose longer and his jaw harder. He had also aged 20 years or so, though of course age is hard to judge in wizards.

Arctarus was about to see if he could get his body to move when he was by another figure appearing in the mirror. A beautiful, blonde-haired woman had sat down close behind him such that her legs were either side of his; she was leaning into his back with her head on his shoulder. Arctarus did not need the mirror to tell him that she was also completely naked. The feel of her soft, smooth skin was setting Arctarus' imagination on fire and his mind was extremely aware of the feeling of her breasts pressing onto his back, causing him to lean back further as she brought her arms around him. Holding him close, the woman whispered in his ear, a very slight French accent in her voice.

"Come to bed, Harry."

Arctarus – or rather, Harry – stood up, still facing the wall, and moved closer to the mirror, peering at his own face, searching his own eyes for something unknown. A heavy silence hung in the air.

"Who am I, Gabrielle? What am I?"

Silence filled the air once more. After a time, Gabrielle stood up to match Harry and was once again pressed to his back. Taking his hands in her own, she whispered once more,

"You are my lover. Isn't that enough, for now?"

As if to prove her point, Gabrielle let her lips ghost upon Harry's ear before moving downwards and leaving a trail of kisses along his neck. A shiver passed down Arctarus' spine, and a desire that was not quite his own filled him; he was overcome with lust, and he turned around to face Gabrielle, and kissed her, his lips crashing onto hers as she started to undo his belt. The feelings and sensations were almost too much for Arctarus: lips upon lips, skin upon skin, and Gabrielle's deft hands, moving to remove his jeans. Harry let his own hands drift, one holding Gabrielle's back, the other moving upwards to grasp her side, his thumb on her breast. He was getting lost in the moment, all there was in the world was Gabrielle, and all that mattered was making sure she didn't go away, and then –

BANG!

It happened all at once.

A series of loud cracks filled the air, and Harry pulled away from Gabrielle, but he was too slow, his mind was fogged with desire…the room was filled with wizards – Aurors! – and before Harry could reach his wand, flashes of light shot around the room; he was hoisted upside-down into the air by his ankle; he was bound, wandless, and at the wizards' mercy.

There was only one explanation: she had betrayed him.

Anger filled Harry; he flexed his hand, and his body righted itself in the air. Arctarus realised with a thrill that he was using wandless magic. The ropes fell off him and turned into angry snakes, which then in turn lanced through the air at the Aurors, filling the air with screams. Another wave of Harry's hand and two more Aurors were thrown across the room into a wall, knocked unconscious. A sliver of hope rushed through Arctarus: it looked like he was going to escape! But the numbers against him were too great, and he was ambushed at a time when he was weakest, and just as Harry's wand shot back into his hand there was a violent flash of green light, a rushing sound like a wave crashing upon a beach, and suddenly Arctarus was back in the room in Siberia with Cain, his skin burning, blood leaking out of the hundreds of cuts growing on his skin, choking on the smoke and the oil forced down his throat –

Arctarus woke with a gasp, sitting up in his bed, breathing heavily as he regained his composure. I'm safe at home, he thought, far from Siberia. And yet the smell of smoke seemed to linger in the air, and Arctarus could still see in his mind's eye the way in which his skin tore open, cut as easily as paper. Shaking himself, Arctarus got out of bed.

It was late morning, and light was shining through the window; Arctarus had left the curtains open the night before. His room was not a large one, not needing to be as he spent very little time there. The furnishings were sparse - there was a bed, a desk, a bookcase and a chest of draws – but everything within was of a high quality, intricately carved and finely polished. Ignoring all of this, Arctarus walked to his door and stumbled out onto the third-floor landing, making his way down the stairs to the hall and then the kitchen on the ground floor.

His mother and younger brother were already sitting at the large kitchen table, eating breakfast and chatting away, but both stopped talking in shock when Arctarus walked through the door.

"Arc!" cried his mother, who got up from the table and rushed over to him, enveloping him in a hug. "What are you doing here? Your uncle-"

"Something came up," replied Arctarus, stepping back from his mother and opening one of the many kitchen cupboards, withdrawing a beautifully painted bowl.

"Something came up? Oh Arc, I do wish you would tell your mother more about these things…there really is no reason to be so secretive! You were only in Birmingham after all…"

Arctarus' mother never did understand why her son had returned from his first year at Hogwarts so cold and distant. What had happened to the young and naïve 11 year old, so eager to please?

Just as Arctarus was about to reply, the doorbell rung, surprising them all.

"Strange…" Mrs. Greengrass said, "I wasn't expecting anyone today…maybe your father?"

Arctarus shrugged, grabbing some cereal and milk.

"I'll be right back!" she cried as she left to get the front door. While she was gone, Arctarus took a spoon out of a drawer and sat down at the table, opposite his brother, who remained silent.

"Looking forward to starting Hogwarts, Daniel?"

Daniel simply shrugged, mimicking Arctarus' movement not moments ago. Daniel had always held a bit of resentment against Arctarus, for both his success and his lack of family feeling. This was something Arctarus had decided to change, especially considering that Daniel would be at Hogwarts in a month. Arctarus couldn't afford to have a single weak-link in the chain of his life, and Daniel could ruin everything.

He was just about to try to start up conversation again, when his mother returned, looking a bit pale, bringing with her whoever had rang the bell.

Arctarus froze when he saw them.

There were two of them, a man and a woman, and the man – the man was the Auror from Siberia. He was in trouble, especially considering his wand – the wand he had stolen – was upstairs in his room.

"Arctarus," said his mother, her voice shaky, "these Aurors would like to – like to have a chat with you in the other room."

Arctarus could only nod, not wanting to risk opening his mouth. He wondered idly if he might be able to do wandless magic better if he was under emotional stress.

"Come with us, then," said the man, walking back out into the hall. Arctarus followed, noticing that the woman did not follow until he had walked through the door. There was something else about the woman too, something that niggled at the back of Arctarus' mind, something he couldn't put his finger on. It was almost as if he knew her, but that was impossible…wasn't it?

He followed the Auror down the hall of his own house; they were moving towards the door, but before they reached it the Auror turned off into the living room. Arctarus obediently went in after him, and the familiar woman followed, closing the door behind her. He was trapped.

The room was quite large, housing a large fireplace, above which was a mirror. Comfortable armchairs and couches lined the walls of the room, and a glass coffee table took the centre stage.

The two Aurors took an armchair each, and Arctarus sat down as far away from them as was possible without being rude. The male Auror was the first to speak.

"Arctarus Greengrass, we are here to question you about your whereabouts over the last week, and the events of last night. Should you lie, or withhold the truth, you will be prosecuted to the greatest extent of the law. Do you understand this?"

"I do," said Arctarus, letting a cold façade cross his face. He had dealt with worse situations in his life: all he had to do was keep his cool, and use his abilities and charm to worm his way out of the problem.

"Good," said the Auror. "I am Oliver Thrall, and this is Marie Rousseau, who will conduct the majority of the questioning. Shall we begin?"

Arctarus nodded, and leant back in his chair, trying to appear relaxed. The first question was predictable.

"Could you please recount where you have spent the last week?" asked Marie, her French accent once again shocking Arctarus with an unknown familiarity. Deciding to answer the question at least a little truthfully, Arctarus replied,

"I've been on holiday…in Russia."

Oliver scribbled something down on a piece of parchment that had appeared out of nowhere. Marie asked another predictable question.

"And what made you decide to go to Russia, Arctarus?"

Though predictable, it was also harder to answer. He'd have to tell a mixture of the truth and a lie at the same time.

"I just felt like going there. Is that a crime now?"

It was the truth, in a sense. He only went to Siberia because of a feeling, but he neglected to mention the fact that he knew what he would find there. Marie turned to Oliver, her eyebrows raised; she obviously didn't believe him. Oliver, however, shook his head, and Marie's doubtful look turned into a frown. Curious, Arctarus thought. Had they cast some sort of truth-spell on him?

Turning back to Arctarus, Marie leant forward, her blue eyes piecing his own. Once again, the familiar feeling returned, stronger than ever. Before he could think on it more though, he was asked the next question.

"What is your relationship with the Dark wizard known as Cain?"

Arctarus stiffened in his seat at the name, the smell of smoke seeming to drift in the air.

Both Marie and Oliver noticed, and Oliver started scribbling violently on his parchment. They obviously suspected him of being in league with the Dark wizard. Wanting to avoid looking at the Aurors, Arctarus turned instead to look at the mirror above the fireplace, and suddenly, like a bolt of lightning, realisation struck him as he gazed at the side of Marie's face, reflected in the mirror.

_"Come to bed, Harry."_

Arctarus' eyes snapped back to Marie's and a smirk grew on his face as the image of a naked Gabrielle came to his mind, the feel of her skin on his feeling almost real, even there in the living room. Her hair was of course a different colour, and she lacked the stunning, unnatural beauty of Gabrielle, but the similarity was definitely there.

Marie blushed at the attention he was giving her figure, and Oliver's eyes narrowed; he looked more suspicious than ever.

"Answer the question, or answer it in a cell in the Ministry. The choice is yours," said Oliver in a hard voice. He seemed on edge, thought Arctarus, but that was only to be expected. He had just lost a comrade, after all.

His mind racing, Arctarus tried to come up with an answer to the question that was both satisfying to the Aurors yet revealed nothing. No answer came to him, and his silence was beginning to make the Aurors agitated. Finally, Oliver stood up.

"Arctarus Greengrass, you are hereby placed under arrest on suspicion of being an accessory to murder, and assisting a known Dark wiza-"

Oliver suddenly stopped talking as the fireplace spontaneously lit up with a whoosh, green flame leaping up to fill the large hearth. Arctarus raised an eyebrow. It was a very convenient interruption.

Marie and stood up to join Oliver; both of them had their wands out pointing at the Floo. Speaking slowly, not taking his eyes off the fire, Oliver asked,

"Were you expecting someone at this time?"

"No," replied Arctarus, who was nonetheless grateful to whoever it was on the other end. They were taking their time coming through though – usually the Floo deposits its traveller immediately.

Then, suddenly, two cloaked figures jumped out of the fire, and before anyone could hail them, bright jets of light lanced through the air from the fireplace towards Marie and Oliver, who reacted at an incredible speed, their wands moving almost too fast to follow, shining shields forming in the air, just in time to protect their casters.

The aurors did not waste time in going on the offensive, confident in their superior skill and training. Moving fast, Oliver jabbed his wand forward at one of the cloaked wizards, a blue light flared, sending the man flying back into the still-burning green flames, where he promptly disappeared, spinning off to an unknown location. Meanwhile, Marie had been busy casting a flurry of transfigurations, causing the living room to come to life. Armchairs became humanoid in shape and started jumping in the way of the barrage of spells cast by the remaining intruder; tables became deadly weapons as they flew across the room, their legs transforming into spears as they took to the air.

As the battle increased in intensity and the spells thrown around became more deadly, Arctarus was forgotten, and he used the chance to slip out of his chair unnoticed. If he could just get to his wand upstairs, he would be able to defend himself, from both Aurors and Dark wizards alike. Dodging under the flying detritus of the fight, he was almost at the door when the fire whooshed once more, but instead of another cloaked figure jumping out, a shadow of darkness emerged from the fire like a cloud of black smoke; it flew around the room, unnoticed by the duelling Aurors, before shooting down to the floor next to Arctarus, where it solidified into a beautiful woman.

Before Arctarus could even blink, the woman's hand had shot at him with the speed of a striking snake and grabbed hold of Arctarus' arm; he struggled, but her iron-grip was too strong, and the world gave a lurch; the living room was gone and Arctarus felt like he was being forced in darkness through a tube, suffocating, before suddenly the world popped back into existence to reveal a sunny glade, deep within a forest. The woman threw him to the floor forcefully, and the wind was knocked out of him.

"You have caused me a lot of difficulty, Arctarus Greengrass," the woman said, and Arctarus looked up into her cold green eyes, and knew in that moment that this was a woman that would not hesitate to kill him – and would enjoy doing so.

"It is a pity that Cain desired you alive," she continued, eyeing him hungrily, "…and untouched. Such a fine specimen…"

Arctarus let his eyes wander over the woman's figure, from her smooth hair to her perfectly carved face, and down the contours of her body, shown-off by the tight fabric of her dress. For a moment Arctarus thought that, perhaps, he wouldn't mind dying if he could only possess her, before he was snapped out of his trance by the cruel, mocking laughter of the woman. She was looking down at him with scorn on her face, and somehow Arctarus knew that she had seen exactly what he was thinking.

"Or perhaps that would be too great an honour for one such as you," she said, a vindictive smile curving her lips. She began to walk away from Arctarus, towards the large tree that sat in the centre of the grove.

"Come, Arctarus Greengrass. Your destiny awaits."

Arctarus stood up, but did not move to follow the woman. He was not stupid: far from it, and he knew where he would end up if he followed the temptress. Arctarus' mind was racing, trying to find a way out of the situation. He once again cursed himself for leaving his wand behind that morning. If only he had it, he would show that woman magic the likes of which she had never seen before…she would lie at his feat, begging for mercy, and Arctarus' power would be absolute…but he was wandless, and powerless to stop his abductor. She sighed from the tree, turning back to face him.

"How did you think this was going to end, little boy?" she asked, though it was clear she wanted no answer. "You had delusions of grandeur and decided to play with the big boys and girls. Now it's time to collect your prize."

Anger filled Arctarus; the stinging truth of her words cut him to the bone. He was out of his depth, and afraid, and that made him angry: angry at the woman, angry at the Aurors for not saving him, and most of all, angry at himself. Despite all of his carefully laid plans, all his hard work, all his skills and power, the fire of his life was to be extinguished before it even burned to its zenith. The woman, however, seemed to care little for Arctarus' internal conflict and was growing tired of waiting.

"We have lingered here long enough," she said, turning back to the tree, "now come, Arctarus Greengrass."

She must have used some sort of obscure magic for at her words Arctarus' limbs started to move of their own accord, walking towards her until he was standing in front of the mysterious tree, next to the woman. No matter how much he tried, he could not get his body to move away: it was like he was back in one of his dreams, a visitor in his own body.

The woman took hold of his arm with her right hand, and with her left she reached forward to touch the trunk of the tree. Arctarus blinked in surprise. As soon as his captor's hand had made contact with the tree, the world had flickered in and out of existence, and when it returned everything had changed. The air was colder, the sun had vanished to be replaced by the dark of night and the light of the moon, and most of all, Arctarus was no longer standing within a forest, but in the middle of a small town.

Having regained control of his body, he looked around, and to his surprise the street on which he was standing was almost completely empty, despite it looking like the centre of the town. There was but one man standing on the dirt road, black-cloaked, his back to Arctarus, displaying pale white skin and a hairless head. The man turned around, revealing his striking skeletal features, but Arctarus did not need to see the man's face to know that this was Cain.

"Eve," he said warmly, bowing his head slightly to Arctarus' abductor with a smile on his face, before turning to Arctarus. "And Arctarus Greengrass. How kind of you to grace us with a return visit."

Eve laughed a full and flirtatious laugh, moving over to Cain with the characteristic swaying of her hips before stopping beside him to whisper in his ear. Arctarus could not make out her words, but whatever she said, Cain found it amusing, for he too laughed, a much colder laugh that filled Arctarus with dread.

"Arctarus," said Cain, turning back him and holding out his arms in a grand gesture of welcome. "Welcome to The Glade. Walk with me."

And as Cain turned away from him to walk gracefully up the street towards the large mansion at the end, that is exactly what Arctarus did. It wasn't an involuntary movement like with Eve, but entirely intentional on Arctarus' part. He was past fear, past anger, and past doubt. He knew Cain's power, knew that there would be no escape unless Cain himself wished it, and for the first time in his life Arctarus decided that he would act like a Gryffindor: if he was going to his death, then he could at least do it with his head held high.

As their eclectic group proceeded towards the manor at the end of the street Arctarus looked around, curious about The Glade despite the situation of his arrival. After all, visiting this place had been his obsession for a long time, and he found himself fascinated by the wooden town, wondering what interesting artefacts and knowledge might be contained within the shabby shops that lined the street.

"It is a pity we could not have met under different circumstances," said Cain, as they reached the gates leading into the manor grounds, which opened for them automatically. "You are a wizard of promise: had you not arrived as you had, carrying that diary and refusing to share its secrets, then we could have reached a very profitable relationship."

Arctarus had no doubt over whom Cain thought would be the one profiting from that relationship. They passed through the gates and walked to the main door into the mansion, which creaked open to expose a large entrance hall, well furnished and warm from the fire burning high.

As the door closed behind them, Cain did not stop or move over to the seats, but continued walking until he had reached the opposite wall, where he turned to face Arctarus.

"What you are about to see, Arctarus, is something that few in the world have ever seen," said Cain.

"I feel so privileged," replied Arctarus, his voice taking on a slightly sarcastic tone, though secretly his curiosity was roused.

As a strange look passed over Cain's face, Arctarus thought for a moment that he had gone too far, but suddenly, surprisingly, Cain started laughing, a proper laugh, not his usual cold laugh, and it suddenly struck Arctarus that Cain had been right: under different circumstances, he and Cain could have become, if not friends, then allies.

Cain stopped laughing as he seemed to remember himself; he shot one last amused look at Arctarus and then turned back to the wall, passing right through it without a single ripple in the wooden panelling's surface. Arctarus turned to look at Eve, but she appeared to be waiting for him to go first, so Arctarus turned to the wall and passed though, closing his eyes as he went.

As he emerged on the other side, cool air met his face, and he opened his eyes to find himself in a long dark stone tunnel, a bright light shining from one end. As soon as Arctarus stepped into the passage, the air seemed to stir, and a strong wind started to rage from nowhere, so hard that Arctarus swayed where he stood, his hair and robes blowing in the fierce underground storm. Magic filled the air, not visible, but Arctarus could sense it as any wizard would, the air on the back of his neck standing up on end at the sheer power that was present in the air. Cain looked into Arctarus' eyes with an unreadable look on his face: could it be that even Cain was fearful in the presence of such potent magic? And yet as he spoke, he sounded excited too, as if he was approaching a long-anticipated moment.

"It will not be long now!" he shouted over the wind, just as Eve emerged from the rocky wall behind Arctarus, her blood-red hair streaming behind her as soon as she joined them. Cain turned away without a word and started moving towards the light, his robes billowing impressively as he walked, and Arctarus followed with Eve behind him, feeling like he was part of some sort of unholy procession, walking to his death. Closer and closer he drew to the wall of light, blinding in its intensity, and the magic in the air thickened with every step he took, curling and roiling around him, filling him with its strength. It was as if the power of that place was welcoming him, and Arctarus revelled in it.

Arctarus had forgotten where he was, lost in the experience, but he was brought back to reality as Cain passed through the wall of light. Arctarus hesitated. What could lie beyond, so primal yet majestic, its power so enticing? His hesitation did not last long; he had come too far to back out now, even if Eve were willing to let him pass. Taking a deep breath, Arctarus took a firm step forwards into the light, and as soon as he was through the intensity of the storm increased: the wind blew harder, the magic in the air grew stronger, and the feeling of anticipation grew stronger and stronger by the moment. Arctarus felt like he was about to witness history in progress.

He had emerged into a great cavern, its ceiling far above and shrouded in darkness, and in front of Arctarus there lay a vast lake of silver, its waters alive and crashing, great shining waves rising and falling in the wind, buffeting each other, yet not a drop precious silver liquid escaped the edge of the shore where Cain was standing, his arms spread wide and his head thrown back, taking in the atmosphere. Arctarus walked to stand next to him, more contained, yet struggling to stay so. Eve followed and stood on Cain's other side, her beauty seemingly magnified by the silver light of the lake, her face flushed and smiling.

"Isn't it magnificent, Arctarus?" cried Cain, turning to face Arctarus, his voice struggling to be heard over the wind. Arctarus could only nod in agreement; no words were suitable to describe his wonder.

Suddenly, Cain's gaze was drawn back to the lake as a column of water rose up higher than any other wave and hung in the air, writhing and transforming into the shape of a face, the deep voice of a man echoing out from the mouth.

"The time is now," it boomed, and Cain understood, he turned to Arctarus, and dread filled the young wizard. Whatever Cain was planning for him was immanent.

"Drink, Arctarus!" he shouted wildly, his pale skin glowing, "drink from the lake!"

There was no question of disobedience. Arctarus knelt down at the very edge of the shore; Cain and Eve stepped back. Suddenly, the storm calmed; the column of water that was the lake's face fell back down into the expanse of silver, the wind stopped blowing, yet the magic in the air grew stronger than ever.

Slowly, agonisingly, Arctarus bent over the smooth mirror-like surface of the lake, staring at the reflection of his face in the water, possibly for the last time. Though he did not see it, Arctarus' eyes flashed a deep emerald green as he lowered his face the final distance to the water and put his lips to it, and he drank deeply of the sweet and clear water, feeling with every drop he drank that he was stronger, more complete, like a puzzle finally fitting together…

The moment had come.

With a great roar, the windstorm returned again, and now there was fire in the air; the cave was lit up in magnificent reds and yellows and that shining, ethereal silver as Arctarus continued to drink, his eyes closed. The storm continued to rage and the silver of the lake started to rush towards the shore like a cloud of shining light on the surface of the water, leaving in its wake a clear liquid as the magic left the lake, returning its contents to ordinary water once more.

Just as the final wisp of silver entered Arctarus' mouth, the voice echoed around the lake one last time, sounding louder and more excited than ever before,

_Animus, mentis, corpus,_

_Agon lemma_

_Et Facio mihi unam_

As soon as the voice stopped speaking, the storm stilled and the cave grew quiet. Arctarus stood up, surprised that he was still alive; he felt better than he ever had in his life. He let out a deep breath, relaxing and the tension flew out of him. Everything was going to be okay.

But then, suddenly, pain was upon him and he fell to the floor screaming. His bones were shifting, breaking and reforming; his skin was bubbling, his face changing; he was growing taller; his eyes seared with a burning sensation and thousands of images began to pass in front of him, familiar and yet distant; a strange feeling started to grow within him, a powerful presence blooming inside – and then, a greater pain than before, a feeling of wrongness, and Arctarus panicked, his mind racing. Was this the end? The foreign presence grew stronger; a roaring filled Arctarus' ears; a violent twisting filled his mind, and then –

Arctarus Greengrass ceased to exist.

* * *

It was like waking from a dream. The last thing he remembered was Gabrielle – that traitor! – and a shining green light, heading towards him. So, he was dead then. And yet, he was sure he could feel his body, though his limbs were only just waking up.

Could it be? Could it have actually have worked, his greatest work, his most revolutionary breakthrough? Was he alive? There was only one way to find out.

He opened his eyes, slowly, to find himself lying on a cold stone floor at the shore of an underground lake. Regaining control of his limbs, he pulled himself to his feat and looked over the vastness of water in front of him, and he knew in that moment that he was alive. He had never let himself believe fully that his precautions against death had worked, and yet, here was the proof: the very same lake to whose waters he had anchored his spirit.

"Arctarus?" whispered a soft voice behind him, and he spun around to face two people, a man and a woman. Both were quite obviously Dark, and powerful. He was sure than the stunning woman was a vampire, and the man's waxy and skeletal look hinted at the creation of a horcrux. It was the woman who spoke. Eve was her name, according to the old memories of his body – which no doubt would be very useful. Apparently he was hundreds of years in the future.

"No," said Cain, who had a strange, cautious look on his face, "that is most definitely not Arctarus."

Harry Potter had returned.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notice to the readers:**

As more and more time goes by, it is becoming increasingly clear to me that Return is not going to get continued. This is due to a variety of reasons. Laziness – or lack of motivation, if you want to put it nicely – is probably most prominent of these, along with becoming bored with the idea as my muse turns to other directions.

So, Return is listed from this point forward as Abandoned, with very little likelihood of continuance. I am truly sorry to all my faithful readers, few as you may be. You've been great in providing support. I will now post up what I have written of Chapter 6, followed by my (rather extensive) notes upon the story, so you can see what would have happened, chapter-by-chapter.

**Chapter 6**

_"No," said Cain, who had a strange, cautious look on his face, "that is most definitely not Arctarus."_

_Harry Potter had returned._

"No, I'm not," Harry muttered, his voice echoing around the silent and now distinctly unmagical cavern. Waking from death was a disorientating process, and he was only just getting his bearings. If someone had attacked him in those first few moments, he would have not been able to defend himself – it was like waking from a long sleep. He was still trying to cope with all the information he had received from Arctarus' mind. The world had certainly changed in the last 200 years or so. From what he could gather, the Muggle world was struggling to avoid chaos as the world climate collapsed around them, the magical world blissfully uneffected behind their enchantments and spells. The grip of the purebloods on magical society had finally loosened, and the government in Britain was now fully democratic, but for a small minority of archaic laws that still endured. The Ministry was now efficient, and led –as it should be – by the most powerful wizard in Britain. Or, at least, it had been. Harry rather doubted that this was still the case.

A small smile stretched Harry's lips in a haunting way – it was a smile that lacked any humour, and a threat of violence. The world was not ready for one such as Harry Potter. Though there had of course been the usual new magical discoveries since Harry was alive, and though the average wizard was far more competent than in his time, the upper echelons of power were stunningly empty. It was as if the skill level of the wizarding world had been smoothed out: there were fewer near-Squibs, but the kind of brilliance that Albus Dumbledore exemplified was all but dead.

Looking up at Cain and Eve, Harry thought about what he knew of them, from Arctarus' meagre memories. They were both powerful, though in different ways. At first glance, Cain appeared to be the more powerful: he had access to a wide variety of magical talents, seemed to be highly skilled at all of them, and had a horcrux to boot. Eve, however, did not possess even the smallest wizarding magic, unless she had recently drunk the blood of a wizard.

And yet, she possessed a power of her own, more subtle than Cain's but no less potent. It was Eve, Harry decided, that he would have to be careful of. Cain was a familiar threat – his power was obvious, and Harry knew where he stood against it. But Eve was unpredictable: she could seduce and enthral; she could call upon the potent magic of the vampire race, and temporarily steal the powers of other magical creatures by drinking their blood.

Still, Harry didn't think that either of them would pose a problem - not for a while at least. They would be trying to get the measure of him, to see how he changed their plans, not realising that it was now to Harry's tune they were now dancing.

Which made him think: what were his plans? Cain and Eve would dance, that was certain, but at the moment Harry was improvising on an unfamiliar instrument.

He had been flung into a world very different from his own, and it disconcerted him. He needed to get a feel for his new situation, and for that he needed time to think, preferably away from Cain and Eve, for they would take advantage of any weakness that Harry showed while he was settling into his new body.

He had never sought great power for himself: though he could have emulated Voldemort, he preferred a much quieter life. All he ever wanted was to be free; free to practice whatever magic he wanted to practice, and free to be with those few people he loved. All of them were gone now though. And Gabrielle…a revenge would have to be arranged.

And that was when it hit him.

Fate had given him that which he had always wanted: a new life. As Arctarus, he had everything he ever wanted. Friends, freedom with his magic, and privacy from the outside world. Arctarus had died, but the rest of the world did not have to know that.

A frown crossed Harry's forehead as his eyebrows came together in concentration, turning his focus inwards, before he relaxed and went still. What he suspected was true. Somewhere within him, Arctarus still lived on. Not as a conscious being, but as a memory – an echo. A tingle at the back of Harry's head. A useful tingle at that.

Concentrating once more, Harry's form shimmered, and in his place stood the shorter and less impressive Arctarus Greengrass. Cain raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Eve simply watched, her face a blank mask. The sight of them reminded Harry that, though stealing Arctarus' life seemed like a good idea for the present time, he still had an army of Dark wizards and creatures who would obey his every command. The magic of the glade – Harry's magic – had called to them and infected them, and Harry would be able to control them with very little effort. Especially with Cain and Eve on his side. But to keep them off balance, he would have to keep them busy…

With a blink and another shimmer, Harry transformed back into his own body.

"Come with me," Harry commanded, his voice brooking no disagreement. He did not wait to see if Cain and Eve would follow – it would be a weakness – but instead walked right past them back towards the world above. As he moved up the stone tunnel and back into the mansion, he fired questions at Cain, needing to know more about the Glade – Arctarus' knowledge was painfully inadequate.

"How large is the Glade?"

There was a brief silence before Cain answered, speaking with great deliberation, as if he considered every word before it left his mouth.

"Physically, as large as you could wish. The spells hiding us place us in a pocket of seventh dimensional space with no boundaries. But in number, the Glade is home to almost ten thousand beings – almost every Dark creature in the world."

"And how many of those are wizards?" Harry responded as he passed through the stone wall leading back into the mansion. His answer did not come until Cain too passed back into the ornate drawing room, the warm glow of the fire breathing some life into Cain's otherwise white features.

"Only nine hundred or so, and among these even less are adequately skilled."

"That is no great problem. The strong are strong because they stand on the backs of those who are weak."

Cain bowed his head slightly. Harry took it to be the closest that Cain would let himself agree with anything that Harry said. The man's weakness was his pride. Even now, Harry noticed that he was making sure to walk next to Harry, rather than behind, where Eve strolled along, apparently unconcerned with the power plays of the two men in front of her. A dangerous person to have standing behind your back.

Their small procession reached the arch of the double doors leading outside. Making sure not to break his stride, Harry focused and thought, Obdagito. The wood of the door rippled as if it were a liquid before Harry walked right through it, passing into the cold midday sun. Cain and Eve still followed.

"What do we have other than wizards?"

"Werewolves make up the brute strength of our forces, though very few of them can perform any magic of their own. Still, we have found that if you combine their strength with a wizard – say, one wizard to five dogs – then they make a most effective…team."

The gates of the estate were approaching.

"Then of course there are the vampires, in much smaller numbers. Most are little more than rabid bloodsuckers, but there are some among them who have real power." There was an unmistakable flicker of Cain's eyes towards Eve. "That makes the majority of our forces. We have the odd hag and Goblin, and a few mindless minor demons, but not in any substantial numbers."

A silence descended on the trio as they approached the gates, which creaked open to let them pass. Once they were through Cain spoke once more. He had left the best for last.

"…I have also heard a rumour that a group of giants arrived yesterday."

Harry smiled. Giants were among the rarest and most lethal of magical creatures, and when armed with Goblin-made armour and weapons they were almost unstoppable.

They had now reached the bustling main street that made the centre of the town. As Harry walked down the dirt track, Cain and Eve faithfully following behind him, all other activity slowed to a halt as the denizens of the magical haven looked on. Even they sensed the shift in power that was occurring. Everyone knew of Cain's undisputed leadership of the Glade, and of the dangers of dabbling in Eve's affairs, yet both seemed to be following another. A man with striking green eyes and a powerful presence that seemed familiar to all there…

With the street effectively at a standstill, it was not hard for Harry to pick his way through the crowd up towards the tree that marked the entrance to the Glade. His intention, however, was not to use the tree to leave the Glade, and as soon as he reached it he turned on his heel so that he was facing the way he had come, his back was to the tree. Cain and Eve shared a look and moved to stand either side of him. Apparently they were willing to observe for a little longer. They were in for a show-stopper. Harry intended to wow the masses into submission, and for that there was one spell above all others that Harry knew: the Drake Storm.

Suddenly, Harry raised his face and arms to the sky, his fingers outstretched, as if he were reaching for the sun. The mob watched on, eager to see what came next. All but the sky became a blur in Harry's vision as he focused on the beginnings of his spell. Most magic came more than easily to him now, but there was still some that required focus. As one of Harry's personal creations, this spell most certainly fell into the more challenging level of magic.

Harry opened his mouth and took a deep breath – the calm before the storm. Then quietly - so quietly that only Cain and Eve could hear at first - Harry began to hum. Not a tune, but a single deep note, raising in volume such that soon the whole street could hear it resonating through the air, its power finally revealed to the watchers – the power of the Glade itself.

The note hung in the air long after Harry had stopped humming it, and it was not long before it was so loud that the whole city must have been able to hear. As soon as it seemed as if it could get no louder without the world falling apart, Harry opened his mouth once more and whistled a wavering, melodic note, the high pitch of the whistle mixing with the deep rumbling still reverberating through the air.

The spell had now reached the point of no return: to stop now would cause the massive power of the spell to become unstable and collapse, most likely killing everyone there. Harry closed his eyes and gave himself to music in the air, allowing the world to become a distant place as his mind transcended the physical world and ventured into the realm of magic and thought, calling up the storm that was to come.

While Harry became lost to the outside world, the crowd had grown larger as people were drawn towards the powerful show of magic, and one of the newcomers must have looked up, for a cry went up and suddenly all were looking up into the sky, just in time to see the previously bright Sun begin to dull as the world turned cold and grey. A strong wind picked up; great roiling storm clouds were blooming out of thin air, blocking out the sky altogether. And all the time, the piercing high whistle and deep rumbling continued.

Wonder filled the onlookers, and a little bit of fear. Who was this man who could spell the very weather? Whatever the fearful Dark creatures were thinking was interrupted as a great boom of thunder overpowered the sound of Harry's spell, causing the very ground to shake.

Then, silence.

The real spell was about to begin.

A powerful screech rent the air from above, grating like fingernails down a blackboard, feeling as if it tore the very fabric of reality. As if answering a call, dozens more echoed from the heavens, joining with the first until all that could be heard was a thunderous roar. The source of this roar made itself known a moment later.

Dragons.

Hundreds of dragons, born of the storm, made of billowing grey cloud and blazing with veins of magical fire, swooped down through the bottom of the clouds, screeching their unnatural roars as they heard their master's call. They did not descend for long though, spreading their wings and riding the air back up into the clouds, dancing in and out of the storm as a dolphin dances over the water.

Harry smiled in the relief that always follows a powerful spell as he lowered his arms and opened his eyes to face at the crowd – a crowd that would now follow and fear him. The spell was finished, and it was not just the Stormdragons that Harry had cast his spell upon. Turning to look at Cain, Harry gazed into his eyes and saw that he had made an impression. Cain was afraid of him. All he had to do now was give the order.

"Begin the attack."

A roar came up from the crowd as they heard the command they had been waiting for. Eve smiled her small seductive smile. Cain showed no response, but Harry knew that he would obey. They were all his.

Having won the crowd, Harry started walking back towards the mansion, his new followers parting before him like the Red Sea.

And far above, the dragons still roared as the storm continued to grow outwards, heralding the war that was to come. It would not be long before it reached the first town, sending fear and wonder throughout the world.

Far away from the turmoil erupting in Siberia, standing high and tall in the middle of the North Sea, lay the fortress of Azkaban. Though often said to be situated on an island, this was not accurate – the fortress was the island, its tall, cold, black walls rising straight out of the raging waves around it. A permanent and angry storm raged around it, powered by the presence of the Dementors, discouraging any would-be escapee. And this was only just the part that could be seen from above. Beneath the roaring waves the fortress continued down into the depths of the sea, all the way down to the rocky bed. It was a marvel of magical construction; every stone was heavily enchanted with powerful spells beyond count from both physical and magical harm.

Built by the Warlock's Council of old, it was more than just the prison that it had become infamous for: it was also Britain's most easterly outpost, guarding against any airborne or naval assault against the United Kingdom. As the largest magical stronghold in Europe it had also become the unofficial headquarters of the Aurors – the Ministry was where the administrators made their home, but the beating heart of the aurors was Azkaban.

……………..

And that's as far as I got. This Azkaban scene literally killed Return. I just could not write it, as I found it – and the next 3 or so scenes after it – extremely dull. Dull, but necessary. Oh well.

Continue to the next chapter for my notes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Return Notes **

**Spells and Magic**

_Adflectum_ – The Pain curse. Shows as a dark grey jet of light.

Alutus Lupio – The werewolf transformation curse. Turns a werewolf into their wolf form, even if it is not the full moon. They keep their minds. Colourless and jetless.Exico – Banishing charm, gives off a blue flash.Conjuris Inanimatis – Conjuring spell for all inanimate objects.

Vampires – Can take on the powers of the being that they drink from, temporarily. E.g. Drink from a wizard and can do wizard magic. Natural vampire powers include the ability to turn into a cloud of smoke, super speed and super strength, blood magic.

Harry's resurrection spells – Harry linked his three component parts – body, mind, spirit – to anchors. These anchors were an underground lake in Siberia (spirit), a Diary (mind) and his body would be reincarnated. If he were ever killed, instead of dying, these three parts of him would be split and would go to the location of his anchors, which would then hold the three parts until they became close again at which time they would merge, bringing Harry back to life. The three parts act like horcruxes for each other: none can be destroyed while the others are still around. Therefore, to destroy them they would have to be destroyed simultaneously. However, after resurrection the spell is over, and would have to be cast again to ensure continued immortality.

New magical discoveries – Permanent conjuration, potion to prevent the werewolf transformation, spell to cause the werewolf transformation, conjuration of food.

Magical Power – The "skill is power" theory. Harry is so skilled/powerful because he grasps fully the fundamental nature of magic – possibly the first wizard to do so.

Spellcasting – Multiple spell-form theory, but not completely comprehensive. Progression from non-verbal, to thinking-of, to thinking-spell, to thinking-effect.

Nature of Magic – Magic is the ability to bend and break the rules of reality to the magic-users will. Authority. Basically, two opposing forces in the world: reality, and anti-reality. Reality is what is, anti-reality is magic. Magic is the much more powerful of the two forces – infinitely more powerful – but reality is the default until anti-reality is "activated". Magic as a raw force is chaotic and random by its very nature. Spells are magic given form and structure for a specific effect. When casting the "Stormdragons" spell, Harry was reaching into the depths of anti-reality to call them up.

Nature of Wizard's Magic – Wizarding ability determined by a magical gene. Either you have it, or you do not, like an on/off switch. No raw power, or magical cores.

**Characters**

_d._ Indicates that the character is already dead at the beginning of Return.

_c._ Indicates the character is a child at the beginning of Return.

**Main characters**

Harry Potter

Boy-Who-Lived, defeater of Voldemort. One of the greatest wizards of all time – maybe even the greatest, though it's between him and Dumbledore. They are very different types of wizard: Dumbledore's power came from his great intellect and skill – the ability to impose his will upon the chaotic nature of magic and bend it to his will. Harry's great skill comes from his grasping of the random nature of magic and embracing it. Dumbledore had the greatest grasp of magical theory in history. Harry realises that there isn't really such a thing as magical theory – it's a wizard created construct.

Primary motivation is simply happiness. He wants a long and happy life. However, because people aren't willing to let him do this, a variety of other motivations have cropped up: desperation, a need to grasp power to enable himself to have this life, revenge for the injustices done to him.

Arctarus Greengrass _c._

The reincarnated body of Harry Potter, called magically to join with the mind and spirit of Harry Potter to complete his resurrection. Found the Diary that was the anchor of Harry Potter's mind in his first year, and he became partially integrated with it over time, until it was taken from him by Cain. Before the Diary, he was an average wizard, but with the help of the Diary he became much more powerful and skilled – Tom Riddle-esque. Ceased to exist in Harry Potter's resurrection ritual, his body being claimed by its owner.

Oliver Thrall

A powerful wizard, though he does not realise quite how powerful, and an Auror captain in the Ministry. His duelling style is speedy and highly magical, using a lot of charm work. He doesn't use much Dark arts, but sticks mainly to charms like the banishing charm for offensive spells. Not tall, not slender nor stocky. Average height and build. Straw coloured hair. Attracted to Marie but a bit blundering when it comes to women. In Ravenclaw at Hogwarts.

Marie Rousseau

French Auror, working for the British Ministry. She was raised and grew up in England, but as is the tradition of her family she was sent to Beauxbatons in France for her schooling. Her magical style is a mixture of strength and skill, she in general prefers a more defensive style, and likes to use complex, delicate and subtle magic. Is attracted to Oliver. Light brown hair, blue eyes, long nose, athletic build. Pretty, but not in an Eve-like overtly sexual way. Innocent in her beauty. Descendent of Gabrielle Delacour. Happy and warm disposition.

Cain

Very powerful Dark wizard from Egypt, probably the most powerful wizard in the world at the time of Return, before Harry comes onto the scene. Knows many obscure magics, especially the Dark arts, though he is highly skilled in all areas of magical study. He is 70 years old and has a horcrux, made after researching Voldemort, who fascinated him in his youth. He is possibly the person who knows the closest thing to the truth, other than Arctarus and Harry, and the Minister. In a relationship with Eve, though not a loving one. Was the first to discover the Glade, and built much of the town, particularly the dimension-shift hiding it. His character is varied. If he likes you, he will enjoy sarcasm and witty humour. If he doesn't like you, he will kill you. Likes to use charm before force, but willing to use both. Has quite a bit of pride, but not to the extent that he's stupid about it. Has a fair amount of patience, despite his cruel nature.

Eve

Immensely powerful ancient vampire, born about 6000 B.C. Beautiful, with long blood-red hair, a slim yet curvy figure, pale skin, green eyes, and a perfectly sculpted face. The first vampire. A highly talented witch before she was a vampire, she lived in the magical country of Eden in the middle-east; she created the Tree of Life, and ate from its fruits, turning her into the first vampire. First thing she did was turn her husband, Adam, and they started the family of vampires which a lot of Jewish mythology was centred around. Noah, Abraham, Joseph, Moses, many of the characters of the old testament were vampires of the Adamic family. Eventually, many of her family – including Adam - were killed off by the powerful warlock and healer Jesus, before she killed him, crucifying him.

**People from Harry's past**

Albus Dumbledore _d._

Headmaster of Hogwarts, 1960s-1996. Immensely powerful wizard, possibly the most powerful wizard to ever live, though Harry would come a close second. Though he is dead and would have been firmly set against Harry's new Dark ways, his memory still holds great sway over Harry, who was greatly affected by his death. Vengeance for his death was Harry's first act of premeditated murder.

Ron Weasley _d._

Harry's school friend. Killed by Voldemort personally in an attack upon his family home shortly after the death of Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione Granger _d._

Harry's school friend. Killed by a curse that was on Voldemort's last horcrux.

Lord Voldemort _d._

Birth name Tom Riddle. Dark Lord, a highly skilled and charismatic leader, led an almost-successful revolution against the Ministry of Magic before he was killed by Harry Potter in 2002.

Minerva McGonagall _d._

Headmistress of Hogwarts 1996-2014. Powerful witch, murdered by Harry Potter when she tried to banish him from the castle for practicing Dark magic.

Gabrielle Delacour _d._

French quarter-Veela who Harry became involved with after he murdered McGonagall and became a fugitive. Not a deep relationship: purely physical. Eventually she betrayed him to the Ministry, allowing the Ministry to capture him by giving away his location, and distracting him prior to his capture.

**Arctarus' Family**

Daniel Greengrass _c._

Arctarus' younger brother, coming into his first year as Arctarus/Harry enters the sixth. A wizard of some potential: far more so than Arctarus was pre-Diary, but not as much as Arctarus post-Diary. Does not like Arctarus. Looks like him, except with brown hair and kind brown eyes.

Mrs. Greengrass

Kind and loving mother: not what you'd expect from a Pureblood aristocrat mother. But pureblood means a lot less in 2200. People don't really care anymore. Maiden name: Smith, of the Zacharias variety, therefore descended from Hufflepuff, though this is of little consequence. Wishes Arctarus was more like his 11 year old self.

Mr. Greengrass

Works in the Ministry as an Obliviator. Doesn't need much money, as he has the family money and house.

**The Ministry**

Captain Longbottom

Quiet and studious auror captain. The most skilled at magic of the four captains, but also the worst in a duelling situation. Knows the magic, and can perform it perfectly, but lacks in application.

Captain Dickens

Short and stocky yet powerful Auror, the least skilled of the four Auror captains, but the one most capable of using brute force, due to his aggressive duelling technique. Scottish accent. Killed by Cain.

Mortimer Higgs

Head of DMLE, not a powerful wizard, but reasonably clever in a non-practical way. Weak minded.

Simon Needam

Head Auror, third most powerful wizard in the Ministry, after The Minister and Head of DoM. A simple man.

The Minister

Powerful wizard, the most powerful light wizard in the story, particularly skilled in Transfiguration. A good Minister, unlike Fudge and Scrimgeour.

**Schoolchildren**

X Higgs _c._

Boy who gives Arctarus information from the Ministry that his Uncle (Mortimer) has told him, in exchange for magical drugs. One year above Arctarus.

X Malfoy _c._

Boy who stole the Diary before Arctarus recovered it, cursing him in the process. Two years above Arctarus, will not be at Hogwarts when Harry goes there.

**Minor Enemies**

Anton

Minor Dark wizard, Cain's hand, capable but not powerful, killed by Cain when he meets Oliver, who takes his place.

Kyran

Powerful ancient Vampire from Israel. Nahum's twin. Classic vampire looks: tall, pale, dark hair, aristocratic face. Part of the Adamic Vampire family.

Nahum

Powerful ancient Vampire from Israel. Kyran's twin. Classic vampire looks: tall, pale, dark hair, aristocratic face. Part of the Adamic Vampire family.

**Hogwarts Teachers**

Professor Henwell

DADA teacher, and Deputy Head. Competent, but not powerful, though he likes to think of himself as a possessor of rare and arcane knowledge.

Head of Hufflepuff

Kindly, trusting teacher that Arctarus fooled. Teaches Potions.

**Story Arcs**

The Return of Harry Potter

The history of the Adamic vampire family.

Eve and Cain romance.

Cain plotting against Harry Potter.

Harry Potter's revenge upon the descendents of Gabrielle.

Harry Potter renewing his immortality.

Harry Potter learning new magical discoveries in the time he was away.

Oliver and Marie romance.

Daniel Greengrass plot.

Harry taking command of the Dark forces.

The war between the Dark Army and the rest of the world, particularly the invasion of Russia and the response from the British Ministry: none.

Harry manipulating the political scene: becoming head boy so that he can speak at the Wizards council, behind the scenes bribing people as Harry Potter to vote against helping in the war, but in the Wizards Council speaking as the rising star Arctarus Greengrass, urging to WC to declare war. The people agree with him, and he rises in fame because of it. Harry then kills the minister, and Arctarus is elected. Harry then betrays the dark army and wins, placing himself as the leader of the Ministry.

The cover-up. After Harry's death, the largest mass-obliviation in history took place, and the whole of the magical world's memories were changed to forget Harry Potter and to think much less of Voldemort. All records of the war were removed, except for a letter given to the each Minister by the last informing them.

**Timeline**

The Past

1980, 31st July: Harry Potter born.

1981, 31st October: Voldemort's first fall.

1996, June: Dumbledore murdered, HP to go on horcrux hunt, age 17.

2000, January: Final horcrux destroyed (was not Nagini).

2000, February: Harry seeks out Voldemort, buts gets beaten and has to flee.

2002, 13th June: Voldemort beaten by Harry Potter, age 22.

2003, 31st August: Harry becomes a teacher, age 24.

2014, 31st October: Harry achieves immortality, is banished from Hogwarts, kills Minerva McGonagall. Goes on the run, aged 35.

2018, 15th December: Aged 39, Harry Potter is ambushed by Aurors and killed.

The present

2187, December: Cain discovers the Glade.

2192: Mass-migration of Dark wizards and creatures to The Glade begins. Cain meets Eve.

2202, September: Arctarus Greengrass finds the Diary, the power of the Glade begins to stir.

2207, 1st July: Undercover mission to the Glade planned by British Ministry. News of this reaches Arctarus.

2207, 20th August: Oliver and Dickens portkey to Siberia. Infiltration begins. Arctarus begins his train journey to Siberia.

2207, 22nd August: Oliver discovers the Glade, Arctarus jumps from the East-line train over Siberia, Cain recruits Oliver, Arctarus is captured.

2207, 23rd August: Oliver and Arctarus escape The Glade, making it back to England.

2207, 24th August: Eve kidnaps Arctarus, Harry Potter returns in a grand display of magic.

**Populations**

Magical population of UK: 30,000. Hogwarts approx. 1400 students.

Magical Population of the world: 3 million

30,000 x 100

Population of the Glade: approx 10,000

1 in every 300 people a dark wizard.

**Story Outline**

Chapter 1

- Arctarus finds the Diary.

Chapter 2

- Mission to Siberia planned.

- Arctarus finds out from an informant, while reminiscing on the past.

Chapter 3

- Both Oliver and Arctarus make their way to Siberia.

- Oliver enters Cain's service, Arctarus is captured.

Chapter 4

- Cain interrogates Arctarus, who is experiencing more of Harry Potter's memories.

- After an attempt on Cain's life, Oliver escapes, rescuing Arctarus.

Chapter 5

- Both the Ministry and Cain are after Arctarus.

- Arctarus is abducted by Eve, who takes him back to the Glade, where he is used in the ritual of Harry Potter's Return.

Chapter 6

- Harry Potter interacts with Cain and Eve, taking command of The Glade. He never sought to be a Lord like Voldemort, but now it is handed to him, he might as well use it to better himself. HP sets off the attack on Russia. Cain and Eve play along, measuring Harry and plotting against him if possible.

- Back in England, in Azkaban prison, Oliver and Marie interrogate the Dark wizard they captured. They're not getting any answers, Dementors are effecting Marie. Permission from the Minister to use Veritaserum arrives. They apply it and get answers. More of the Oliver-Marie relationship is explored.

- Cain and Eve talk about Harry, plotting. The decide to watch and wait. Things begin to get heavy. Meanwhile, far below:

- Harry Potter plots, and decides to return to England – and Hogwarts. He needs more info. Harry Returns to England, in the form of Arctarus.

Chapter 7

- Harry goes to the Ministry, looking for "protection" – he pretends he was unwilling in going to the Glade, and that he fled from the battle at his house, rather than was kidnapped. His story is accepted, since it collaborates with the info from the Dark wizard they captured. Oliver is a bit sceptical. Harry is let go, but while at the Ministry, sneaks into the records section to look for cover-up information. Only finds one file, and it is vague. Oliver asks Marie out, she says yes.

- Harry has come back home just in time for Hogwarts. He accompanies Daniel to the train, trying to start up a better relationship. Harry has been given a new life, and he has always wanted a family.

- Harry arrives at Hogwarts, like he is returning home. Feast, headmaster's office. Like Riddle, very charming.

- Going to bed, Harry plots, setting his plans. He will use his time at Hogwarts to learn magic he has missed, and to start restoring immortality, and to gain the position of head boy so he can reach the WC. Goes to sleep.

- Meanwhile, Cain and Eve in an attack on Moscow. Hints at them building a loyal following they can use against Harry.

Chapter 8

- Wakes up to see headlines of paper. Very pleased

- Class DADA, learning super'd Stunning charm a la spellcasting theory.

- Oliver + Marie 1 (date)

Chapter 9

- Later in year. Class History – Harry not mentioned, even though they are studying Voldemort.. Prefect Higgs interrupts lesson to take Harry away on some pretext, wants drugs. Harry arranges for info on Gabrielle's family tree and descendents.

- Harry learns about new magic that has been discovered during his absence.

- Harry helps Daniel.

- Cain and Eve and a bit of magical army management and open ground warfare at camp.

Chapter 10

- Oliver and Marie 2 (auror action + romance). Recon on fall of Asia.

- Harry, human transfig. class. Turns someone who hurt Daniel into a frog "accidentally". Teacher cannot reverse it. Harry doesn't get into trouble.

- Later that night Harry finishes work of a new Diary. Work takes him through to the morning, where he goes to breakfast to an announcement that Asia has fallen (only China remains). Things are moving too fast for Harry's liking.

Chapter 11

- Harry needs conquest to go slower, so travels to Siberia to speak to Cain. Harry apparates to the camp and tours the troops etc., finds Cain. Cain and Harry disagree over the pace of their conquest. Cain looks like he is about to fight for a moment, but backs down and agrees at the last moment. They agree to go for the more subtle method with China.

- While he is in the region, Harry recreates the spirit-lake. Harry returns to Hogwarts. Decides to write an article for a magical theory periodical to help secure headboy position.

Chapter 12

- Harry reads in paper his article, then turns page and sees that the wizarding council is to vote on war soon. Harry needs them to vote not to join. Harry goes to a wizard's house who has a crucial vote and puts him under the Imperious.

- Meanwhile, Oliver and Marie have another date. Go back to her house. Have sex.

- Hogwarts year ends; Harry told by headmaster he will be head boy next year. Good. Also wins a nationally recognised medal. Harry recasts the reincarnation spell; his immortality is re-ensured.

Chapter 13

- Holidays; Harry goes to Egypt in search of Cain's past; Daniel goes with him, Harry-Daniel bonding. Harry finds out about Cain and Eve.

- Harry gets back to England to hear from his Higgs with Gab's family tree - Marie. HP is happy.

- Chinese Ministry falls to Cain from within; headline news, another vote. Harry goes and blackmails a few people on the night before.

- Harry returns to Hogwarts and is announced Head Boy: time for his plans to go into action.

Chapter 14

- As he sleeps, attempted assassination on Harry. He suspects Cain's hand in it.

- Harry gets up: that day he can go to the wizards council. He goes, much description. He speaks well on why Britain should go and invade the now Dark-controlled Asia. Met with a standing ovation.

- Next day, Harry is headline news. Another vote has been called. Harry goes back around his puppets, giving reverse orders.

- Cain and Eve in Siberia see the news. They consider the situation.

Chapter 15

- Harry goes to the Wizards Council. The vote is called. To war! Arctarus Greengrass is hailed as the leader of the movement to go to war, very popular.

- Harry returns to Hogwarts, people whispering about him. He enjoys it. Considers how things are going. Plans are going well, just a few steps away from achieving his goals. But what about the cover-up? Harry can see no way around it. He investigates a bit more in the library: reference to Voldemort and Dumbledore, but nothing about him. Hmm…

- As night falls, Harry starts preparing for a dangerous mission…

Chapter 16 - Harry goes to assassinate the Minister. Fight! Harry wins, sets things up to look like Dark Army did it. Finds out about cover-up. - With that done, Harry goes to the Glade. Meets Cain, speaks of the Minister's demise. Harry explains his actions as taking over British Ministry from inside, like with China. For once, Cain has a good feeling about Harry. Harry then says he has special intelligence from the Minister's mind, and sends Cain and the army off to a certain place. The army moves out.

- Harry returns to Hogwarts just as morning is turning. Goes to breakfast. Sees paper: it is saying about the Minister's death, and calling for Arctarus Greengrass, the magical prodigy and love of the people, for the next minister! What's more, the Wizengamot have had an emergency vote, and have called for Arctarus to be Minister too!

Chapter 17

- Arctarus being sworn in as Minister. Harry makes speech, says he will personally accompany the British forces to meet the Dark army.

- Auror headquarters, planning, Harry and Oliver face off over Harry's decision to put Marie in a certain place: it is Harry's revenge. But Harry wins the argument.

- The British forces move out, ambush Cain's forces, which were exactly where Harry had told them to be. Harry unafraid 'cause he's immortal. Massive fight. Harry vs. Cain, spectacular. Harry and British forces win! Harry returns to England and sits down in Minister's chair. He has a new life, no problems, and is the youngest Minister ever to be elected. Life is good.

Epilogue

Daily Prophet: Harry's victory.


End file.
